


Tea At Two

by badskippy



Series: Time For ... [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Body Image, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Crush, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, That's not so secret, hurt feeligns, meddling siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Thrainson doesn't leave the office.  At least ... he didn't.  But now, every day, just about two in the afternoon, he disappears.  Is there something wrong?  Some illness or other?  Thorin's family is worried and that means his sister will need to do the usual; a bit of snooping.</p><p>However, things don't work out the way she plans and old hurts and memories come back to haunt Thorin ... and the one he loves most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

 

            The first one to notice anything odd was Dis.

            It was an average, ordinary Tuesday.  As per her usual routine, she took that day to review past overdue invoices and anything that was amiss in current accounts payable. Also, per her usual routine, if there was something outstanding that was of great value, she would bring it to her brother’s attention so that he was aware and they could have everyone decide on a course of action.

            “Thorin,” Dis said coming into Thorin’s office, her eyes firmly locked on the account statement in her hands, “I wonder if you might—”

            She looked up as she came fully into the room but stopped dead; no Thorin.

            _Where the hell is he?_ She looked to one side but noticed the door to the office’s private loo was open.  _Okay, that rules out a call from nature._ Thorin’s desk didn’t tell any story; everything was in its usual, ‘organized’ mess.  However, Thorin’s suit jacket was missing from the back of his chair.  _Did he go out?_   That seemed unlikely.

            Dis walked back out of the office.  “Janie,” Dis said, addressing Thorin’s secretary.  “Did my brother _leave the office_?”

            The woman almost looked startled.  “I don’t think so.  In fact, I thought he was going to meet with you.”

            “No,” Dis said.  “We had nothing scheduled.  When did he go?”

            “He left here about …” Janie glanced at her watch, “… thirty … forty minutes ago?”

            Dis just didn’t understand it.  Thorin never—

            “Got a problem?” Thorin said, coming from behind the ladies and walking into his office.

            “There you are,” Dis said, following Thorin.  “Where’ve you been?”

            “Can’t a guy go to the loo?” Thorin said, removing his jacket and draping it on the back of his chair.

            Dis glanced at the open, unused, _private_ loo in Thorin’s office again.  Was she missing something?  “Something wrong with yours?”

            “Am I chained to my desk now?”

            Dis nearly laughed.  “You usually are by your own admission.”

            “I do get out you know.”

            No, Dis didn’t know any such thing.  “Since when?”

            “I just … took a breather.”

            Dis just didn’t understand.  It was like having your pet rock ask you to take it for a walk; it was laughable. “What did you do on this … breather?”

            “Christ, woman,” Thorin shook his head.  “Are you working for MI5?”

            “I’m just curious as to—”

            Thorin huffed out a growl.  “I went to get something to drink and used the loo down the hall, okay! Are you satisfied?!”

            That still made no sense.  Why not just ask Janie to grab him something to drink, use his own loo and then he’d have what he wanted when he got out.  _Like he always did._ Thorin was a creature of rigid habit, so why then—

            _Whatever._

            Dis let it go.  She had other issues and where her brother chooses to answer his bladder’s needs was not one of them. Yet, her brain, being wired for such things, instantly and surreptitiously filed the incident away.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            The next one was Dwalin.

            It was two days later, not that he knew about Dis’ Tuesday.   Dwalin had burned up most of his morning dealing with a techy client who needed constant reassurances. It had put him behind almost from the start and before he knew it, he’d worked right through lunch.

            Fuck.

            It was now two-thirty; Dwalin was irritable and snippy, and he knew perfectly well what was wrong, as Dis had pointed out many times, he had low blood sugar and needed to eat.  Knowing Thorin like he did though, he was damn sure that his knob-head cousin had probably done the same; Thorin _never_ ate lunch.

            It was an easy problem to solve; just give Thorin a call.

            “Thorin Thrainson,” Thorin said, distracted, on the other end of Dwalin’s phone.

            “I’m fucking hungry,” Dwalin said.

            “Good for you,” Thorin replied.

            “I want lunch.”

            “And you need my permission for that?”

            “I’m wondering if you want to have it with me, you arse.”

            “Did it ever dawn on you to actually ask me?”

            Long pause.  “No.”

            “That’s only funny because it’s true.”

            “Look, just tell me where you want food from and—”

            “I’m not hungry.”

            “Bullshit. You know you are, so what would you like to—”

            “I already had something.”

            Dwalin was almost pissed.  “You guys sent out and didn’t tell me?”

            “Who are ‘ _you guys_?’”

            “You and Dis and whoever else ordered—”

            “I don’t know what Dis and the others did; I ate on my own.”

            Had Dwalin heard right?  Thorin?  Ate on his own, and already?  Really?  “Well, okay then.”

            “Enjoy your lunch … wherever you go.”

            “Yeah, right.”

            Dwalin hung up and did a quick search of places near by on his computer; an Indian restaurant in the building next door, a tea shop across the street, a burger place around the corner and a pub on the next block.

            Indian gave him heartburn and just the thought of fast food made his stomach turn.  Fuck it - he'd just order from the Pub.

            He sure as hell wasn’t going to any teashop!

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

           

            Balin noticed on the following Monday.

            Having just gone down to the basement archives to retrieve some files, Balin ran into Thorin as he was coming off the lift.

            “Thorin!” Balin greeted his cousin cheerfully.  “How are you?”

            “I’m, uhm …” Thorin glanced at his watch, “running late.”

            “Late?” Balin worried; had he missed a meeting?  He looked at his own watch and saw that it was two-ten. “Was there something scheduled?”

            “No, it’s—”

            “If you give me just a minute,” Balin said, shuffling the files in his hand, “I’ll accompany you.”  Balin made to leave but Thorin’s stopped him.

            “Balin, there is no meeting.”

            “No?”

            “I’m just … stepping out for a bit.”

            “Stepping … out?”

            “Yes,” Thorin said, sounding harried.  “And I’m late so … so I’ll see you later.”  And just like that, Thorin was in the lift and gone.

            Balin just shook his head.  Thorin ‘stepping out’ was like saying the Moon was leaving the sky; it just didn’t happen. Was there something wrong? Something with work? With Thorin?!  Good heavens, should he tell Dis? 

            With his mind made up, he called Dis as soon as he got back to his office.

            “He stepped out?”

            “That’s what I’m telling you,” Balin insisted.  “At first I thought I had forgotten some meeting or appointment with everyone, but he said he was stepping out; his own words.”

            There was a long pause on the other end of the phone and for a moment Balin thought Dis had hung up.

            “You know,” Dis said, “last week I went to see him and he said he had left his office to _‘take a breather’_ , get a drink and use the loo.”

            “Something wrong with his?”  It all sounded strange. Thorin was nearly always in his office and if not, he was in the conference room; with everyone else.

            “That’s what I said!”

            “I wonder if he is all right,” Balin stated quietly. “I mean … health wise.”

            “I wonder if anyone else has noticed anything.”

            “Do you want me to ask around?  Discreetly of course.”

            Another pause.  “No … meet me at Dwalin’s office.”

            Two minutes later, Dis and Balin descended on Balin’s brother. Dwalin confessed to what he observed and Dis ended up calling her sons, who where interning under their cousin Gloin. Within ten minutes, her boys and her cousin Gloin were in Dwalin’s office as well. All said they noticed Thorin being rather … evasive and a couple of them had also noticed him missing about two in the afternoon.

            “So what do we do with this information?” Gloin asked. “Should we confront him?”

            “Cornering Thorin isn't always the best option," Balin stated.

            “Should we do _anything_ is my question,” Dwalin said, “It could be a private, personal situation.”

            “It probably is personal,” Dis countered, “but if it’s a health issue, then I’d want to know.”

            “Doubt _he_ would want you to know,” Dwalin said.

            “Judging from his behavior,” Dis stated, “That’s clear.  But if he is going through something, I can’t just stand by and let him go through it alone!”

            “Then why don’t you talk to him directly, Mum?” Kili suggested.

            “Don’t be a git,” Fili said.  “If he wanted Mum to know, he would have told her, so I doubt he will confess even if she confronts him directly; he’ll just continue to hide … whatever it is.”

            “There must be a solution,” Balin offered.

            “Only one,” Dis said.  “Stealth.”

            “In other words,” Dwalin said with smirk, “You’re going to follow him.”

            “Naturally,” Dis said with a shrug.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis plays 007

* * *

 

            “Why not simply ask Thorin?” Balin suggested.  “Alone, in his office, he may well feel more comfortable and unthreatened.”

            Dear Balin.  Had it been anyone else to suggest such a thing, Dis would have laughed out right. “Thorin will feel threatened regardless of how discreet or ‘comfortable’ we word the question.” Dis knew Thorin all too well. “No.  Until we have a much clearer picture, we cannot risk confronting him; or else we will push him further away.”

            Now, when it came to Dwalin –

            “Just follow him when he leaves the office.”

            Dis couldn’t help by laugh out loud.

            “What?” Dwalin shrugged.

            “Yes, that’s very clever,” Dis said when she finally caught her breath. “Except I have to wonder about the lift; there is only one.  Where do you suggest I hide in a four square metre lift?”

            Dwalin had no answer to that.  It was laughable and Dis gladly laughed again at the thought.

            With her boys, she was more gentle but still disappointed; the poor lambs clearly hadn’t inherited her genetic predisposition for subterfuge.

            “We can help you!” Fili insisted.

            Dis shook her head.

            “We can hide in the crowd,” Kili said nodding.  “Maybe use walky-talkies—”

            “Why wouldn't you just use your phones?” Dis asked.

            “Oh yeah,” Fili said.  “that would be better.”

            Dis took a calming breath.

            “But with us following too,” Kili continued, “if one of us looses him, the other two can still follow!”

            “And what if he discovers all of us following him?”  Dis said, softly.

            “We can tell him …”

            “We’ll say …”

            Dis sighed.  It was hard not to roll her eyes.  “Darlings, it’s risky for one, let alone three.  And no excuse will save us if her discovers us all following him about.” Dis stood up and straightened her skirt.  “No. It’s best if I go alone.”

            She decided to wait a few days.  She told everyone to not ask or even mention when Thorin was missing or gone in the afternoon; Thorin would be lulled into a state calm and, therefore, be far less on guard.  She thought about a disguise, but she shot that down; if Thorin saw her, it would be easier to play it off as something innocent if she were dressed as herself.

            Dis’ mum had been the master of reading people’s words.  She often said that when people don’t want you to know something, they would tell you so outright.  But it’s when they had something to hide that they make mistakes; often people will be so worried about acting casual and calm, they ended up saying things that, when pieced together, told a narrative.

            With Thorin, while grumpy and evasive, he tried very hard to be nonchalant; too much so.  He’d mentioned _‘stepping out’_ and going _‘for a breather.’_  That indicated to Dis that he was leaving the building.  Yes, there was a small café in the lobby of their building, but it sold simple, commercially packaged, premade sandwiches and treats and had self-serve coffee and tea; Dis doubted Thorin even knew the place was there really. He’d told Dwalin that he’d already eaten, so that told Dis wherever he was going served some kind of food item. However, the real kicker was when he told Dis that he’d gone _‘to get something to drink.’_ But Thorin didn’t return with anything; not a can of soda, or a take-away cup, or even a bottle. Whatever he drank, he did so there and came back.  And they’d already figured out that Thorin wasn’t ever gone for more than thirty or forty-five minutes, so he can’t be going too far.

            In the end, Dis was sure that Thorin was going somewhere outside the office building, but somewhere close, someplace that served food and drinks and he consumed them there, then returned to his office.  All very easy to conclude in Dis’ opinion; the hard part was going to be figuring out why.

            But one step at a time she reminded herself; she needed to find out where he was going first.

            By the end of the week, she made her move.  She made sure to tell everyone she had an appointment and left at one. She knew that skulking about in the lobby was unwise; even with people coming and going Thorin might see her. She also couldn’t loiter on the street, so she would have to move, ‘off site.’   There were some shops near by but nothing with a great view.

            The wasn't quite true - not now anyway. There was a new teashop right across from their offices. It would give her an unimpeded view of the building – Dis could watch which way Thorin went, left or right, when he proceeded from their building – then Dis could follow him while staying on the opposite of the street.          

            Perfect.

            Plus, in the teashop, Dis could order a cuppa, grab a seat, relax, and if, by chance, Thorin saw her, she could explain that she had finished her meeting early and had stopped for a treat before coming back to the office.

 

_**THE OXFORD EXCHANGE IN TAMPA, FLORIDA - THE BASIS FOR BILBO'S TEASHOP** _

 

            Crossing the street to the teashop, Dis was amazed when she walked in; although new, the place looked every inch the Edwardian teashop.  Black and white marble tiles, set in a circular pattern decorated the floor.  One side of the shop was dominated by a ‘tea bar’ with shelves of tea in shiny metal canisters and a huge tarnished mirror in the center; clearly tarnished on purpose, lending to the antique feel of the place.  The other side of the shop had open cases, matching the bar, filled with tea related items from knick-knacks, teapots, teacups, French-presses, to small containers of tea and books – books on the history of tea, the making of tea, tea parties, cookbooks for biscuits, cakes and finger sandwiches, and even etiquette – it was wonderfully neat and orderly and yet still homey and inviting.

            Tall potted palms were scattered here and there, to sort of _divide_ the tables and give a little privacy; it was all too perfect.

            Dis settled ordered a lovely Jasmine green tea, took a seat near the register, just metre from the front window and waited.     

            She didn’t have to wait long.

            Almost at the stroke of two, Dis saw Thorin exit their building. He stood there for a moment, straightened his shoulders and buttoning up his suit jacket.  Then, as the crowd thinned and the traffic slowed, Thorin … Thorin crossed the street!

            _Shit!_   He was coming right at her!

            For a second, Dis feared Thorin had seen her!  And she’d been so careful and discreet.  But in the next moment, she realized that he couldn’t have known and his face was relaxed; had Thorin been even _remotely_ aware of Dis’ following him, he would be wearing a thunderous expression.  As Thorin got closer, Dis wondered if he was going to a shop on either side of her location but that made no sense; there was an art gallery next to the teashop and a leather goods store on the other side of the bookstore.    

            Maybe Thorin was going to turn and walk down the street?

            Dis got ready to follow but then, the chime on the teashop sounded and Thorin walked in!  Dis had just enough time to sit back, obscured by a palm plant, and turn her face away just in case. She reached into her bag and pulled out her pale sunglasses; adding one more layer to hide behind.

            Serendipitously, although she now had her back to the tea bar and thus Thorin, a large mirror across the room allowed her to see what was behind her while she listened.

            Thorin slowly walked up to the counter, he appeared to be looking but at what Dis couldn’t tell; he didn’t seem to be looking at the tea canisters. Thorin looked … well, he looked nervous in Dis’ eyes but she could be wrong.  Maybe he was just in a rush to go somewhere else?  But that meant, again, where was Thorin rushing off to in the—

            “May I help you,” said a pleasant if imperious voice.

            Both Thorin and Dis startled; Dis because she was in her own world and Thorin – well obviously he was distracted.  Dis had been waited on by the man, named Dori, but it was clear Thorin didn’t know him well.

            “I’m, uhm …” Thorin cleared his throat.  “… I’m not … sure.”

            The man raised an eyebrow but nodded.  “Very well.  Let us know when we—”

            “Hello there!” A pleasant male voice sounded from the back.

            Thorin stiffened, but Dis could swear she saw a bit of color come to his cheeks.

            “Ah … hi,” Thorin said.

            Dis sipped her tea and observed a young man, a head shorter than her brother, and a little full-figured, but rather adorably teddy-bearish in nature. His ash blond hair and smiling grey-blue eyes added to the man’s charm.

            “How are you?” The young man asked, giving Thorin a toothy grin that almost brightened up the shop!

            “Well,” Thorin said, a smile blooming slowly over his face. “I’m, uhm … well. Thank you.”

            “The usual?” the young man asked, with a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows.

            Thorin blushed, smiled and kind of _giggled_ at that.

            Dis almost choked on her tea!  Her brother - her brother, Thorin - the one with the permanent stick up his arse, just _giggled_ \- like a school boy!   

            Dis suddenly felt she needed something stronger than tea in her cup!

            “The usual will be fine,” Thorin said, softly.

            “Right,” the young man said, slapping a hand on the counter. “One large Builder’s Tea and a scone.” The young man said loudly, looking over at Dori who nodded and started on Thorin’s order.  But the young man suddenly brightened and whispered loudly to Thorin,  “Oh, and I have surprise for you!”

            Thorin straightened and Dis noticed the high-color return to his cheeks. “A surprise?” Thorin asked, sounding like little kid.

            The young man nodded.  “I took your advice,” he said, “and I made some savory scones; Prosciutto with Gruyere and green onions, Feta cheese and Sun-dried tomatoes, Bacon and Cheddar, and …” the young man cleared his own throat.  “… what I call my _‘Scarborough Faire’_ scone.”

            Thorin smiled at that.  “Let me guess,” he said.  “Parsley, Sage—”

            “Rosemary and Thyme,” the young man finished.  “You are correct.”

            “And how did it turn out?” Thorin asked.

            “The others flew off the shelves,” the young man answered. “I had no idea they would be so popular. Thank you for the idea!”

            “It was merely a suggestion,” Thorin stated.  “You made it happen.”

            “Well, thanks to you,” the young man said, “People are raving about them, so I've decided to keep the savory ones on the menu.  And,” he reached under the counter, “as a way to say thank you, I saved you the last of them as a treat.”  He placed a small brown bag on the counter, neatly folded at the top, and slid it across to Thorin.

            “You didn’t have to do that,” Thorin protested, but he sounded more pleased than anything else.

            “I wanted to,” the young man said, ignoring the phone that had started to ring. “After all, it was your idea.”

            Thorin nodded.  “Thank you.”

            “Here’s your tea,” Dori said, putting Thorin’s cup on the counter. “Bilbo, when you have a second, Ori’s on the phone for you.”

            Bilbo. Dis liked the name.

            “If you will excuse me,” Bilbo said to Thorin.  “I have to take that, but do let me know how you liked the scones.”

            “I will,” Thorin said, picking up his cup and the bag. “Oh, but … wait.”

            Bilbo turned back around, puzzled.

            “You didn’t tell me how your _‘Scarborough Faire’_ scone did.  You only mentioned the others.”

            “I don’t know yet,” Bilbo said, smiling softly.  “I only made them for you.” Bilbo pointed at Thorin’s bag. “Let me know.”

            So this was Thorin’s big secret.  A cup of strong sweet tea, scones and a whole heap of flirting with the cute guy at the teashop!  She was both surprised and elated!  She’d been on Thorin for the last few years, telling him it was time, find someone special, bring them home to meet the family, fall in love, settle down.  But Thorin had flatly refused to listen to any of Dis’ talk and had told her to, _‘Mind your own business and stay out of my bedroom!’_ Thorin also claimed that he had Fili and Kili and her and he didn’t need someone else mucking up his life.

            Well, maybe he didn’t need someone, but he’d apparently found them anyway!

            Thorin was so distracted he walked right past Dis without noticing.

            But Dis did.

            “Are you going to share those?” Dis asked casually.

            Thorin spun around, shocked.  “What the hell are you doing here?” Thorin growled out.

            Dis smiled.  “That’s my question to you, brother dear.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

 

            Thorin Thrainson valued his privacy.

            It wasn’t that he had anything to hide, mind you; it wasn’t a fear issue. Only, he didn’t feel this overwhelming need to share every aspect of his day, every tiny detail, every fleeting thought, every passing whim, with other people.  Some things should remain private.

            Like his entire life for example.

            He didn’t use social media.  He didn’t post, blog, tweet, or what have you.  At most he used email, and that was only because there was no escaping it; all his clients used emails now.  But even then he still hated the ‘intrusion’ of it; the computer or his phone chiming, telling you when you had mail, chiming again to remind you to read the damn things, alarms, inboxes and sent boxes and -

            Whatever. He just wished people would leave him be.

            Of course, it was't because he felt any shame about himself. Granted, he’d never spoken of his sexual preferences to anyone, but then his family had always held the opinion that such matters were meaningless to a person’s worth.  He’d gay and lesbian aunts and uncles for God’s sake, no one thought twice about it.  His cousin Dwalin was quite open about his sexual conquests; a bit too open in Thorin’s opinion. And even Dis had verbally wondered if either or both of her sons leaned in an alternative direction; she almost sounded like she hoped one of them would.

            In fact, it might have been this rather gregarious openness that had driven Thorin in the other direction.

            Thorin never felt he had peace.  Peace of mind, peace and quiet, peace and time to himself; he was always surrounded and inundated by family.  For as long as he could remember, he was called ‘quiet’, ‘withdrawn’, ‘introverted’, ‘secretive’, even ‘broody’ and ‘emotionally constipated’; a phrase that made his teeth itch!  Just because he didn’t spend his time weeping or bleating on about his feelings didn’t mean he had a problem with them!

            Yet, he would have to admit – if only to himself – he did have issues connecting with another.  No one ever seemed to ‘fit’ him.  He rarely had more than two dates with the same person and, in recent years, it was rare if he had more than one!  He didn’t know what he was looking for, nor could he spell out exactly what he was wanting, but he was sure that when he met his someone, he would know it.

            It was the afterwards part that he always had problems with.

            Until the day he met Bilbo Baggins.

            It had been a sunny day; not a hint of rain.  Thorin had gone to met with an older, eccentric client who, like Thorin, hated emails and all that modern ‘hogwash.’  Being a beautiful day, Thorin felt no need to take an umbrella and decided to simply walk the few streets over to his client's office.  It was as he was returning that the heavens opened up like a dam bursting.  Hoping he could make it, he had to concede, with his offices just across that street, that it was too much and Thorin ended up seeking refuge in the first open shop he came to.

            A teashop.

            It was nice looking.  Dark stained wood, marble counter and floors, overstuffed, tufted chairs and couches, book shelves/display cases on the opposite wall from what was clearly the tea counter. Yet, there were boxes everywhere and the shelves were almost empty; were they closing?

            “May I help you?”

            Thorin turned at the pleasant voice and froze, just staring. A young man was coming out of the back, caring a box. He was adorable; smooth, rosy pink cheeks with beautiful blue-grey eyes and pale blond hair, a sweet smile and a little stocky – just how Thorin liked his men, completely cuddly in Thorin's eyes. The young man was beautiful.

            “I’m, uhm …” Thorin stammered.  “I’m escaping the rain.”  Thorin gestured at the boxes. “Are you open?”

            The young man smiled apologetically.  “No … we don’t open for another two days.”

            “I’m sorry,” Thorin said, not feeling the least bit of it. “I didn’t mean to barge in ... I guess I should go.”

            “Wait!” the young man said the second Thorin turned. “It was my mistake for leaving the door unlocked and I can’t possibly let you go out in such weather.” The young man set down the box he was carrying and came around, locking the front door and coming up to Thorin. “Why not relax, I’ll make you a cuppa and you can wait out the storm.”

            “I don’t want to bother you.”  Thorin’s heart soared as the young man laughed.

            “I assure you, it’s no bother!” The guy said smiling, gently touching Thorin’s upper arm and led him to the counter.  “If I can’t manage a simple cup of tea while unpacking, then I have no business opening a teashop!”

            Thorin could help but smile and he gladly took a seat while the young man bustled about behind the counter.  “So this is _your_ shop?” Thorin asked.

            The young man nodded.  “I inherited a good deal of money …” he plugged in a kettle “… and I’d thought of opening a teashop some day …” he got out two large mugs, sugar, a container of cream and a small canister of loose tea “… and when this building came up for sale—”

            “You own the building?” Thorin shook his head, amazed, as the young man nodded. Sure it wasn’t a huge building, four story and a little narrow, but still, London properties weren’t cheap!

            “As I said, I inherited a good deal.”

            “More than 'good' I’d wager.”

            The young man shrugged.  “Maybe. But tons of money in the bank is just a waste in my opinion.  Besides, I live on the top floor and I am thinking of renting out the middle ones to other businesses.  Maybe a law firm or such, something quiet.”

            “That’s sensible.”

            “How do you like your tea?”

            Thorin didn’t know.  He preferred coffee if he was truthful and couldn't honestly remember the last time he had tea.  Of course, he couldn't confess that to his young … no, not _his young man_. “I, uhm … it doesn’t really matter.”

            “Doesn’t matter?!”  The young man gave Thorin a look of mock shock that made Thorin laugh.  “I’ll have you know sir, that one should always know how to take their tea.”

            _I may not know my tea, but I know how I’d like to take you,_ Thorin thought but let that go unsaid. “My apologies.”

            “Let me guess,” the young man tilted his head, as if trying to read Thorin’s mind.  “I’ll bet you that you’d like it with dairy and plenty of sugar.”

            Thorin smiled.  “Why do you say that?”

            “Because you take your coffee black, don’t you.”

            Thorin was truly shocked; he did take his coffee black. “How’d you know.”

            The young man shrugged.  “You have that look about you; no nonsense and to the point. I find that such people take their coffee black.”

            Thorin couldn’t help but smile.  Was this really happening?  Was he sitting here talking to the perfect man?

            “So,” the young man said, unknowing of Thorin’s thoughts. “Because of your coffee preferences, I am going to guess … _guess_ mind you, that you will like your tea quite the opposite.”

            “I guess I’ll have to trust you.”

            “That would be wise,” the young man said with a teasing wink.

            Thorin was heading straight over the moon.

            The kettle singled at that moment that it was done and Thorin watched as the young man made up two cups of tea, measuring, mixing and pouring like a scientist in his lab.  In no time, there was a steaming mug of rich, brown-colored tea sitting in front of him; the smell was heavenly.

            “Builder’s Tea,” the young man said.  “Of course, I have altered the recipe.”

            “Have you?” Thorin took a sip; it was fucking bliss in a cup. “How so?”

            “Well,” the young man took a sip of his own.  “It’s typically made with less expensive tea … but I couldn’t _possibly_ serve you PG Tips in my fine establishment, now can I?”

            Thorin laughed.  “Heaven forbid.”

            “Exactly,” the young man smiled, starting to unpack a box of flatware. “And I used half-n-half, not milk.”

            “Well, it’s delicious.” Thorin took another sip.  “Thank you.”

            “My pleasure,” the young man said with a slight bow of his head, before startling.  “Oh my goodness!  How rude of me!”

            “What’s rude?”  That was the last thing Thorin would have thought.

            “You can’t have tea …” the young man opened a bag nearby “… without something to nibble!”  Taking a small plate from a stack on the counter, the young man placed a golden scone on it and set the plate in front of Thorin.

            “Is that your private stash?” Thorin felt a bit guilty taking the guy’s food.

            “Yes and no,” the young man said.  “I haven’t made any for the shop yet, but I will be.  So … in a way, you are getting a preview of what is to come.”

            “That’s more than generous of you.”

            The young man blushed all the way to his ears and Thorin knew he was in trouble; he was completely besotted at this point.

            “Let's think of it as,  _interactive advertising_ ,” they young man said.  “If you like it, you’ll tell others.”

            Thorin had zero intention of telling anyone about this shop; he wasn’t going to risk his family coming in. This was his and his alone.

            Thorin insisted on sharing the scone and all too soon, the scone was gone and the mugs were empty.  The rain had even stopped.

            “I guess I should be going,”  Thorin said, standing up.  He did have work to do and he absolutely didn’t want anyone questioning him on his whereabouts.

            The young man nodded.  “Thank you for being my first customer.”

            Thorin took out his wallet to pay, but the young man put a hand over Thorin’s, stopping him, and Thorin could feel a zing move up his arm from the soft touch.

            “That’s not necessary.”

            “I don’t want to take advantage of your—”

            “I said, no.”  The young man was polite but his tone told Thorin he would brook no argument.

            “Then I guess I am in your debt.”

            “There is no debt on my part,” the young man said.  “It was a pleasure, really.”

            “For me too,” Thorin insisted, and meant it.  He turned to walk to the door when it hit him. “You know,” Thorin turned back to the young man. “I never asked you your name.”  He had been so caught up with the witty banter and the guy’s smiles and beautiful eyes, that he had been mesmerized; he was such a dolt.

            But the young man laughed.  “We're both guilt of that.  What _is_ your name?”

            “Thrainson. Thorin Thrainson.”

            “Bilbo Baggins.”

            _Bilbo._   So unique, so charming, so totally right in Thorin’s mind. “It’s nice to meet you, Bilbo.”

            “And you as well, Thorin.”

            Bilbo came around, unlocking the door and they both wished the other a good day.  As far as Thorin was concerned, it was the best day of his life!

            And for two months, Thorin had had Bilbo all to himself, in a way. Sadly, they didn’t get to chat like they did the first day; Bilbo’s shop proved very popular with the locals so he had little time for long conversations. But Thorin didn’t mind. He’d come every day at two, order his usual Builder’s Tea and scone and watch Bilbo from afar. Thorin wasn’t sure if Bilbo felt the same, or if Bilbo was just naturally exuberant; Bilbo was so charming with all his customers.  The only thing Thorin knew for sure was that he was slowly falling for Bilbo in a way he’d never had for anyone else.

            Then his sister had shown up and ruined everything.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am shocked ... SHOCKED ... at the response to this fic! I am thrilled you guys like it so much!

* * *

 

 

            Thorin didn’t even grace Dis with an answer to her question about sharing his scones. But then Dis didn’t look like she really wanted her question answered.

            “I had no idea you even liked tea,” Dis said, casually, taking off her glasses and stowing them away in her purse.

            Thorin gave no answer, as he slid into the chair opposite his sister.

            “This place is wonderful don’t you think?” Dis asked, looking around the shop.

            Thorin said nothing; placing his treasured bag on the table along with his take-away cup of tea.

            “It’s charming without being twee,” Dis continued, “and yet sophisticated without being stuffy.”

            Thorin had no words, he only stared at his sister like a poisonous flower among orchids.

            “And the staff is so friendly,” Dis stated, taking a sip of her drink. “Very attentive to the customers.”

            Thorin merely breathed, his whole being focused on the process.

            “The menu looks delicious as well,” Dis commented with a small smile. “Although, I haven’t tried their _newer_ items.”

            Thorin had no need to respond; the implications would not be lost on anyone – at least, not anyone that had overheard Thorin’s conversation with Bilbo.

            “I can see why you kept this place a secret,” Dis said quietly, as she turned her head in the direction Bilbo had taken to the backroom.

            Thorin gave no acknowledgement of Dis’ observation; but something was clearly building within him if his face betrayed him correctly.

            “Then again,” Dis said, failing to see the warnings in front of her, “who wouldn’t want to keep someone like Bilbo a secret.”

            At Bilbo’s name, Thorin’s rage boiled over.

            “You just had to come here, didn’t you!” Thorin snarled out, struggling desperately to keep his voice down.  “You just had to come here and ruin it all for me, _didn’t you_!”

            Dis was blinked in shock; Thorin’s reaction was obviously not what she expected.  “Thorin … I don’t mean anything bad.  Honestly, I didn’t think—”

            “You never _fucking_ do, do you?!” Thorin growled out gutturally as he suddenly stood and stalked out of the shop.

            Thorin was quick, too quick for Dis.  He was out the door before she could even gather her things and stand. By the time she made it to the front door of the teashop, she could see Thorin entering their building.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Bilbo walked into the backroom/office and picked up the phone. “Hello, you!”

            “Hey, Bilbo!” Ori sounded bright and cheerful.

            “How are you?” Bilbo asked.

            “Great!” Ori replied.  “In fact, I’m coming in _tonight_ ; I was able to catch an earlier flight.”

            “That’s wonderful!  Dori will be so pleased.”

            “Well … Dori was why I wanted to talk to you.”

            Bilbo was confused.  “I don’t understand.”

            “I wanted to know if I could stay with you.”

            Now Bilbo was really confused.  “Why ever for?”  It was not that he minded, not at all, but he couldn’t remember if Ori ever stayed somewhere else, other than Dori’s, when he came to visit.

            “I love my brother.”

            “Of course you do.”

            “And I’d do anything for him.”

            “I know.”

            “I mean, he’s … he’s been like a parent to me, even with only ten years difference.”

            “I can understand that.”

            “But …”

            “I thought there would be a but in there somewhere.”

            Ori sighed audibly.  “I don’t want to live with him.”

            “Live with him?”  Bilbo thought Ori was coming for a visit.

            “I’m not just coming back … I’m _moving_ back.”

            “What happened?”  Bilbo was truly shocked; living in France had been Ori’s dream.  At least, it used to be.

            “I miss home,” Ori confessed.  “Far more than I thought I would.”

            Bilbo smiled at that.  “I see.”

            “Living in Provence is awesome,” Ori insisted emphatically. “I’ve loved it here … the people are so sweet … and the countryside is so beautiful …. but—”

            “But it’s not home.”

            There was a long pause before Ori said, softly, “No.  It’s not home.”

            Bilbo got it now.  Ori wanted to be near his family and friends, he wanted to be home, but he’d had a taste of freedom and didn’t want to live as a ‘child’ under Dori’s roof, no matter how loving and caring Dori could be.  “You can stay with me for as long as you need or want.”  Ori’s huge sigh or relief told Bilbo he was right.

            “Thank you, Bilbo!”

            “You don’t need to thank me,”  Bilbo treasured Ori’s friendship; having him live with him would hardly count as a hardship.

            They discussed when Ori would arrive and argued about just who would sleep on the couch until Ori got a proper bed.  By the time they were done, thirty minutes had flown by and Bilbo really needed to get back out in the shop.

            When he walked out, the first thing he did was scan the area but he already knew he wouldn’t see Thorin; the man rarely stayed more than thirty minutes. Sighing he headed for the tea bar, wanting a soothing cup of Earl Grey to help him over his disappointment of _not_ getting to say good-bye to his favorite customer.  Well, not _customer_ per se.  Not anymore, not to Bilbo.

            Bilbo knew he was being silly.  Just because Thorin came and bought tea, that didn’t mean the man wanted more. Lots of guys came in at the same time each day, probably their scheduled break or something. Thorin probably came in at two because it was less busy than at lunchtime.  Would Bilbo have loved more with Thorin?  Is the sky blue?   But, Bilbo knew he was only fooling himself; a gorgeous creature like Thorin would hardly be interested in a fat little man like Bilbo.

            Thorin was just being friendly.  That’s all.

            “Do you need help?” Bilbo asked Dori, as he took a sip of tea.

            “No, I have the orders all done,” Dori replied. “Although … if you’d like to clean some of the tables …”

            “I’m on it.”

            Bilbo put his cup down, hidden under the counter, grabbed a clean cloth, the all-natural cleaner he used for the tables, and the large plastic carrier he used to busy the tables.  He’d only taken a few steps into the seating area when he came up short; he stood there staring, his heart sinking into his stomach.

            Right there on a table was a take-away cup and the bag of special scones he’d made for Thorin; untouched, and clearly unwanted or desired.

            Just like Bilbo.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

 

            Dis moved as fast as she could, but between a sudden surge of traffic, the throng of people in the lobby and those waiting for the lift, she was a good five minutes behind Thorin by the time she made it up to Erebor Architecture on the sixth floor.  As she stepped into their offices, she could feel the change in atmosphere of the place; it was charged.

            “What the hell happened?” Balin demanded quietly, appearing at Dis’ side.

            “Not now, Balin,” Dis replied, heading towards Thorin’s office.

            “If you’re going to look for Thorin,” Balin said, moving along with her, “I’d advise against that.”

            “Why?” Dis stopped in her tracks; concerned and a little fearful.

            “He just came barreling through here,” Balin continued, “looking like he was ready to spit fire.  I think he threatened to fire Janie for something before he slammed his door.”

            That didn’t bode well at all.  Janie was probably the most efficient and loyal assistant Thorin had ever had and he rewarded her continuously for her excellent service. To threaten her with dismissal was inconceivable.

            Dis took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts; apologize first, try and fix the mess, then try to find the root of the issue.  Sounded simple enough.  But then, dealing with fuck ups was never that simple.

            “So what _did_ happen?” Balin asked again.

            Dis shook her head.  “I shouldn’t say … I’ve already made it bad enough.”

            Balin looked shocked.  Dis couldn’t blame him; it was rare for Dis to admit that she had screwed up. “How bad are we talking?”

            Dis was sure she looked as guilty as she felt.  “I’m not sure, but I may have destroyed far more than just Thorin’s mood.”

            “You aren’t making much sense.”

            “At the moment, not much is.”

            Dis readied herself and walked calmly to Thorin’s office. She didn’t look around but she could tell the office staff was on edge and there was definitely a ‘tightness’ to feel of the place.  She was almost to Thorin’s door when Janie moved to block her.

            Janie held up a hand to stop Dis.  “He doesn’t to be disturbed,” the secretary said in a loud whisper.

            “I have to see him.”  Dis was resolved to make amends; somehow.

            “I’m sorry,” Janie said, moving to block Dis as she tried to get around the young girl.  “He specifically said … I … I mean, he doesn’t want to be—”

            “What did he say?” Dis asked.

            Janie colored and almost chewed on her lip but did answer.

            “Tell me.  Please.” Dis thought politeness might help.

            It did.

            “He said …” Janie hesitated, obviously not wanting to say. However, she took a deep breath and stated, “He said he didn’t care if the place was on ‘fucking fire’ or there was a bomb threat, he’d fire me if I let anyone in …”

            “I see.”

            “… he said ‘especially my sister.’”

            Well, didn’t that just put a damper on apologizing.  But she had to try.  “Don’t worry, I won’t ... go in.” Dis stepped around Janie and knocked on Thorin’s door.

            No reply.

            Dis knocked again.  “Thorin, please let me in.”

            No answer, but Dis thought she heard the creak of Thorin’s chair.

            “Thorin … please.”

            No words but Dis heard the tread of Thorin’s shoes as he made his way to his office door. 

            That’s when Thorin locked it.

            Dis knocked again but there was no sound now and Dis was forced to give up.

            “Now what?” Balin asked quietly as he followed Dis back to her office.

            Dis set her purse down, sat in her chair, kicked off her shoes and sighed; she had to admit defeat.  “I think I’m over my head.”

            Balin almost paled.  “You’re giving up already?!  You just started?! And you can’t leave Thorin in that state he’s in!”

            Dis nodded.  “I’m not giving up, per se … I’m just saying that I can’t do this alone.”

            Balin realized what Dis meant.  “Do you think he’ll come home for this?”

            Dis nodded empathically.  “He has to.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “You don’t know that for sure.”

            “It seems fairly obvious.”

            Ori shook his head.  He’d only just arrived from the airport and the second he walked into Bilbo’s flat, he knew something was wrong; he’d known Bilbo for a third of their lives. “Just because he left the bag doesn’t mean you offended him.”

            Bilbo nodded.  “I should never have told him I made those last scones for him personally.”

            “Of course you should have!” Ori insisted as he unpacked. “It was a sweet gesture.”

            “I don’t even know if he is interested in me,” Bilbo said, sitting on the bed.  "He probably thought I was some weird gay stalker or something, making passes at every straight guy that walks through my door."

            Ori almost rolled his eyes.  “From what you have told me, I think it’s pretty obvious his feelings; he likes you.”  

            “Not necessarily,” Bilbo pointed out.  “He could just be coming in and being friendly.”

            “Straight men aren’t _that_ friendly,” Ori said with a smirk.

            “That’s discriminatory,” Bilbo said, answering Ori’s smirk with a scowl. “Straight men can be friendly with gay men without it meaning anything … untoward.”

            “Oh please,” Ori said, putting the last of things away. “None of what I’ve heard from you makes it sound like this is some straight guy coming in for laughs from the gay teashop owner.”

            Bilbo screwed up his face.  “What does that mean?”

            “You know,” Ori said, closing his now empty suitcase and sliding it under the bed, before sitting down next to Bilbo.  “Every gay man has had those few straight guy friends that are secure enough to jokes and flirt with us because it’s funny and they get a kick out of it.  It’s cool. But this situation doesn’t even remotely sound like that.”

            “You don’t know him,” Bilbo said, looking down at his lap. “Even if he _is_ gay, I doubt very much if he'd go for someone like me.”

            “Why ever not?” Ori laughed at such a thing.  “You’re smart and funny, a nice guy, hard working—”

            “Thorin would probably go for the likes of you over me.”

            “What makes you say that?”

            Bilbo sighed.  “You’re built more like him than I am.”

            “What?”

            “You know.  You're both are tall and lean. I’m just … fat!”

            “Oh my god!” Ori was almost offended on Bilbo’s behalf. “You are _so not_ fat!

            “I am,” Bilbo said lowly.  “I’m a short, pudgy gnome—”

            “You are not!  Where is this coming from?!”

            “Thorin is classically handsome—”

            “You’re very handsome too!”

            “He’s tall and trim—”

            “So what?”

            “I’m like, the … the little round period to his slim exclamation mark!”

            “Don’t be ridiculous!”

            “It’s true!  I’m the fat cow to his sleek race horse!”

            “You are _not fat_!”

            “I am!”

            “Look,” Ori was clearly reaching his wit’s end.  “I’ll agree that you and I are not the same. But I’m small boned; like my mother was. You're a medium build, and I’d like to point out that you are smaller than Dori; would you call him fat?”

            Bilbo rolled his eyes.  “Dori’s build big; he is truly big boned. He carries his weight differently. You can’t use him as an example.”

            “Then you can’t use me as an example for you,” Ori insisted. “Yes, I’m slim, I’ll admit it. But you aren’t fat either. Okay, sure, you’re a bit … softer around the midsection—”

            “I think we call that portly.”

            “Stop it!”  Ori was getting mad. “You are a good-looking guy, and I think you're letting society’s twisted sense of beauty eat away at your own self-worth, and even worse, projecting those feelings onto Thorin … who I’d like to point out doesn’t seem to think that way of you.”

            “You can’t say that for sure.”

            Ori had to concede that.  “No, I can’t … but I think—”

            “I’m tired, Ori,” Bilbo said.  “I’m tired of being everyone’s ‘friend’, their ‘little brother’, the ‘court jester’, the one everyone laughs with but never goes home with.”       

            Ori was silent, he’d never heard Bilbo talk like this before.

            “And I thought, finally,” Bilbo said, sounding defeated. “I’d found someone who could love me for me.  But in the end …”

            “Bilbo, there is someone out there for you,” Even Ori knew his words sounded hollow.   “Someone wonderful … I know it! If Thorin Thrainson doesn’t want you, then fuck him!”

            “The problem is,” Bilbo said, softly, “Thorin’s the only one _I want_.”

            Ori was lost; what could he say to that?

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis calls in reinforcements

* * *

 

 

            Ori’s stated plans were to sleep in, get up late in the morning, wander downstairs to get tea and nibbles and then, trek back upstairs to read, write or whatever; whatever being the most likely activity.

            Bilbo didn’t mind.  He was very happy to have his best-friend staying with him, so Ori had carte blanche to do as he pleased. Besides, Ori had been traveling all day the day before, so in Bilbo’s eyes, the guy deserved to have a good long lie in and relax. 

            Bilbo made his way to the kitchen and, as if on autopilot, began to make breakfast for himself.  As if by magic, but more because he was half asleep, before too long, he seemed to have a full plate of eggs, potatoes, tomatoes, a few bangers, and large cup of sweet, hot tea. He had just speared a banger and was inches from his mouth when he remembered yesterday.

_I’m a short, pudgy gnome_

_The little round period to his slim exclamation mark_

_I’m the fat cow to his sleek racehorse_

_We call that portly_

_I’m just … fat_

_Fat_

Suddenly Bilbo wasn’t quite so hungry anymore.  He actually put the fork down and stepped back from the plate of food.  What the hell was he doing?  No wonder he couldn’t take his clothes off without being marked by them!   Without hesitation, he grabbed the plate, dumped it’s contents in the bin along with any of the left overs in the pans, and tied up the liner to be tossed.

            Pouring out his tea, and rinsing the cup, he turned the kettle back on and proceeded to make himself a travel mug of fresh, green tea.  Not his favorite, but he knew enough of its health benefits to know that it was better than sweetened tea.

            When it was ready, he took the first sip.

            Yeah … still not his favorite in the world.

            He’d get used to it though.

            Bilbo showered, shaved, and dressed, then grabbed the tied up bin-liner to take downstairs to the garbage container out back.

            Walking in the shop, he told himself to ignore the treats. Ignore the scones, and croissants, the biscuits and pasties, the batches of rugelach and the displays of petite fours.  They were all for customers, not for the likes of him.  He grabbed a shiny apple when he stomach gave a growl, but like the treats, he chose to ignore his internal monster.

            Bilbo Baggins was going to slim down and lose weight.  He was going to win Thorin if it was last thing he did. And with his stomach protesting at the fresh fruit and green tea, it might just be the end of him.

           

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Dis glanced at her watch for the third time before once more scanning the crowd.  She couldn’t have missed him, could she?  

            _No._

            Her brother would have just parked himself at the entrance and waited if he’d gotten in early, she was sure of it.

            _Maybe I should text him or … something?_

“Dis!”

            Spinning around, she breathed a sigh of relief, smiling, as Frerin came towards her.

            “I thought I missed you,” Dis said, giving her twin brother a hug.

            “I’m so sorry,” Frerin said, pulling back.  “After standing over on the other side for the last fifteen minutes, it dawned on me that when you said _‘met on the right side of the station’_ , you were probably talking of _your right_ , not mine!”

            Dis laughed.  “I should have thought of that myself.”  She gave him another quick hug.  “I’m so glad you could come.”

            Frerin adjusted the large rucksack over his shoulder and gestured for Dis to led the way.  “You sounded so upset, how could I refuse.  Besides, I haven’t much work going on right now, so taking a few days isn’t a problem.”

            “Thank god.”

            “What’s going on?”

            “Wait until we’re in the car.”

            It didn't take Dis long, after pulling out of the car park, to tell her tale. She figured that there was no point in beating around the bush, nor would she candy-coat it to make her look better.

            Frerin groaned when she’d finished.  “What were you thinking?”

            “I didn’t mean anything,” Dis said.  “Bilbo is adorable and … oh my, God, Frerin, I wish you could have seen how they looked at each other, even watching them in a mirror, they were so charming!”

            Frerin shook his head.  “That isn’t the point.”

            “I know, I know.  But—”

            “You know how Thorin values his privacy.”

            Dis sighed.

            “Have you spoken to him?”

            “He won’t speak to me.”

            “Shit.”

            “He locked his office door yesterday,” Dis explained. “He refused to answer either his work phone or his mobile.  He stayed late, _because I stayed late_ to try and catch him, but that didn’t work.  And when I arrived early this morning, he was already there and his office was once again locked.”

            “Jesus, Dis.”

            “I’m sorry—”

            “Don’t apologize to me.”

            “—I was just so happy that he … might, have found someone and I just …”

            “Assumed that he’d be thrilled to share it with you.”

            Dis didn’t answer; no need.

            “Yeah, and he has always been so thrilled to share his life’s details with us all.”

            “Why the hell can’t he just let us be happy _with him_?!”

            Frerin was silent for a minute before answering, “Why can’t you let him have his happiness to himself?”

            Dis huffed out of frustration.  “So what?  You’re going to take his side against me?”

            “I’m not taking sides,” Frerin insisted.  “I’m just pointing out the other side of your argument.”

            “Can’t you stand with me for once?”

            “I’m not standing with anyone!”

            “Sounds like it.”

            “You know,” Frerin said, sounding more amused than upset. “You two have always been on the opposite ends of the spectrum.  Is it really any wonder that I would take the middle road?”

            Dis rolled her eyes.  “Why must you always pretend to nicer than the rest of us.”

            Frerin roared with laughter.  “Someone’s been watching reruns of Downton Abbey.”

            Dis laughed at that as well and they continued on in quiet for a bit. However, as they approached the office, Dis had to wonder, “Do you think I … I can salvage what’s happened?”

            Frerin thought about it.  He thought about it hard.  “I’m not sure, love. Like everything else that needs to be saved, it will depend on how much damage has been done.”

            Dis nodded.  She already feared that she’d done real damage this time.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Discussing all their options, Frerin had decided that an immediate meeting with Thorin was a bad idea.  Clearly, him showing up in the morning after Dis’ little stunt would be seen for what it was; in intervention.  In fact, there was no way, even later that it wouldn’t look like Frerin had come in just for Thorin, but if Frerin took the day and then called Thorin later, after giving their older brother more time to cool down, and then telling Thorin he was in town and would like to get together for dinner, that might go over better.

            Frerin hoped anyway.

            When Dis went into work, Frerin decided he’d scope out the other half of the Thorin dilemma; he headed for the teashop across the street. _Tea and Tomes_ was lovely; Frerin liked it right off. It was almost casually formal and yet, he felt very welcomed.  He ordered an Earl Grey and a croissant from the grey haired man behind the counter; Dori, the man’s nametag read.

            He was just starting to wonder when the famous Bilbo would appear, when it happened; Bilbo came out from the back of the store and began straightening and cleaning the books shelves.

            Frerin could see why Dis thought Thorin and Bilbo were charming; Frerin could easily see them together.  Thorin’s dark looks, would pair well with Bilbo’s light countenance.  Not to mention Thorin’s rather gruff, stiff demeanor coupled nicely in Frerin’s mind with Bilbo’s colorful, homey appearance. And Bilbo had a rather ageless air about him that was very attractive.

            Charming to say the least.

            Frerin was intrigued and thought he’d be a bit bold.  Getting up, he approached Bilbo from behind.

            “Excuse me,” Frerin said, tapping Bilbo lightly on the shoulder.

            “Yes?” Bilbo said, turning and sounding rather short.

            Frerin took a step back; temper seemed to be something shared between Thorin and Bilbo.  “I’m sorry to bother you.”

            Bilbo sighed and rubbed his head.  “No, I should be the one to apologize.  I have a slight headache and I certainly didn’t mean to snap.”

            Gracious. Frerin added that the list of Bilbo’s attributes.  “You should take something for that.”

            Bilbo nodded.  “Probably. May I help you with something?”

            “I was …” Frerin thought quickly.  “… looking for a gift.  For my brother.”

            “Well,” Bilbo said, “can I assume he likes tea if you are looking here?”

            “Yes,” Frerin said, feeling cheeky.  “I think he likes it very much.”

            “Is his like casual,” Bilbo said, “or more along the lines of an obssession?”

            Frerin laughed.  He liked Bilbo. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure.”

            Bilbo nodded in thought.  “In that case … you could buy him a gift basket.”

            “A basket?”

            “A few tins of tea, a mug, maybe a teapot or infuser or both. You could get one of our glass mugs with a removal infuser … those are always nice … or even one of the tea makers we have that drains from the bottom.”

            “No biscuits?”

            “Well, all our food items,” Bilbo gestured to the display cases, “are made here daily, so if you want some included, we’d have to make the basket up on the day you wanted to give it.  To insure freshness.”

            “I see.”

            “Would you like to order one now, or do you want to think it over?”

            “I’ll get back to you on it, if that’s all right.”

            “Of course.”  Bilbo reached into a pocket of his apron and pulled out a business card, handing it to Frerin. “Just give us a call when you decide.”

            Frerin looked down at the card.  _Bilbo Baggins, owner._ “Thank you, Bilbo,” Frerin said, holding out a hand.

            Bilbo shook Frerin’s hand and gave him a soft smile.  “My pleasure.  I hope your brother likes what we have to offer.”

            Frerin could help but smile.  “Oh … I think he’d love it.”

            In just those few minutes of conversation, Frerin was sure Thorin would love anything Bilbo Baggins made up for him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made Dis and Frerin twins for a minor reason ... just go with it.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

 

            Frerin wasn’t in the least bit surprised when his first attempts at contact failed.  He hadn’t really expected an answer from his text; Thorin hated emails, so texting was viewed with utter distain. Well, it was only one day after Dis’ disaster and a Friday to boot, so he wasn't worried.       

            Frerin settled into his room at The Corinthia Hotel and waited. Dis had wanted him to stay with her and the boys, but while Frerin loved his sister and nephews, they were a bit overwhelming when together.   Plus, staying at a hotel might provide neutral ground for Thorin, if Frerin could get them all to meet in one place.  Frerin figured he’d give Thorin privacy over the weekend and try Monday.

            But Monday provided no better.  Thorin’s cell phone went right to voicemail.  When Frerin tried to reach Thorin through the office line, Thorin’s secretary politely, but firmly, informed him that Thorin was taking no calls; no calls from his family more like but the young lady didn’t state that.

            Tuesday was also a totally wash; texts, calls and emails went ignored.

            When Wednesday repeated the same, Frerin decided to contact Dwalin. However, Dwalin informed him that Thorin was refusing to see anyone in the office, excluding his secretary.   Issues were discussed via interoffice email, and any email that spoke of anything other than work was ignored.   The only improvement was that Thorin was now answering Dis’ _work_ emails but his replies were curt and near monosyllabic.

            Frerin was now growing concerned. 

            Thorin had always been a private person; for as long as Frerin could remember, Thorin had been a quiet, reserved man.  Too grown-up for his age their grandmother used to lament.           

            And Thorin had a temper.  Once, when they were thirteen, Dis had snuck into Thorin’s room and ‘borrowed’ one of Thorin’s favorite jumpers.  Naturally, while wearing it, she stained it horribly and ruined it.   Thorin was furious but Dis just laughed it off; it was only a jumper and she told Thorin to get over it.   Their father didn’t want them arguing and told Thorin to just go get a new one, while their grandfather took Dis’ side and said Thorin was acting childish.

            But this prolonged isolation and cold anger was worrying. Clearly Thorin was far more hurt than they initially thought and Frerin wondered, just _what_ was Bilbo to Thorin?

            Frerin finally reached his point of desperation on Thursday; a week after it had all begun.  He went into Thorin’s offices just before closing and waited; he was determined. Sure enough, about two hours after everyone else had left, Frerin, sitting nearby, heard Thorin’s office door unlock and his brother walked out.

            “About damn time,” Frerin said without a hint of humor.

            Thorin didn’t flinch.  “Skulking about, are you?  Typical.”

            “Not much choice.”

            “Sure there was,” Thorin turned and looked Frerin.  “You could've given up.”

            “As I said,” Frerin replied, standing up.  “Not much choice.”

            Thorin shook his head.  “I know why you’re here.”

            “Do you?”

            “I’m not an idiot.”

            “Then why are you acting like one?”

            “Sod off.”

            Frerin chuckled; at least he got response from his brother. “Why are you acting this way? Honestly?”

            Thorin stiffened; his go-to defensive posture.  “I don’t have to explain—”

            “No, you don’t. But I wish you would.”

            Thorin remained silent for several long minutes before saying, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

            “Fine,” Frerin said, shrugging.  “Then we won’t talk about it.  Let me take you to dinner and we can talk about your latest projects instead.”

            Thorin cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.

            “Thorin,” Frerin said, “I’d just like to spend time with my brother … who I haven’t seen in a long while … and who I care about a great deal.”

            Thorin deflated at that.   “Frerin, that’s not fair.”

            Frerin smiled.  “No, it’s not … but did it work?”

            Thorin sighed.  “I really … I really don’t want to talk about it.”

            “I know,” Frerin stepped forward and placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “But know if you do, I will gladly listen.”

            “Sure,” Thorin said, nodding.  “Then run and tell Dis.”

            “Not if you don’t want me to,” Frerin stated.  “What happens between you and Dis is just that ... between the two of you.  But what goes on between _us_ , will stay between us ... if that is what you want.”

            Thorin seemed to search Frerin’s face, probably looking for a trace of deception but clearly deciding that his brother was being honest.  “All right.”

            They ended up going to the pub nearby, _The Griffon’s Wing_. Thorin did indeed talk of his latest projects and Frerin of his recent travels.  Slowly, as the food disappeared and the pints numbered up, Thorin relaxed and evidently conversation turned to Bilbo.

            “How did you meet him?” Frerin asked, quietly.  Thorin stilled, and the soft smile that graced Thorin’s face was not lost on his brother.

            “It was a rainy day,” Thorin said gently, staring unseeingly at the table and taking a sip of his ale as he recounted his first meeting with Bilbo.  Afterwards, he said, "It kind of chills me that had I not forgotten my umbrella, had it not started raining, had I not been at the right moment and right time to turn into his shop ...”

            “Why does it _‘chill’_ you?” Frerin asked.

            “Because,” Thorin answered, looking up. “I’d never have met him.”

            Frerin paused at the almost fearful look in Thorin’s eyes and it hit him suddenly, “My god, Thorin … you _really care_ for this man.”

            Thorin nodded slowly.  “I can’t explain it really.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “The moment I met him, I was overwhelmed with feelings of protection ... and fear.”

            “He made you feel protected?”

            “No. I mean, I felt this incredible sense to protect _him_.  That I had to keep him safe.”

            “Why is that?”

            “I … I don’t know.”

            “Is that why you didn’t tell anyone about him?”

            “I guess … maybe … I … I don’t know.  I just made the decision that I would not share him.”

            Frerin took a breath, a little stunned.  “Thorin … that sounds a bit possessive.”

            Thorin shook his head.  “I don’t mean it that way … I don’t own him … he’s not an object, I know … I just mean …” Thorin seemed to get lost in his memories.

            Frerin thought he might understand.  “Well you said you felt fear … do you think that was why you felt protective? Do you think that was why you didn’t want to share him?  Did you feel he was in some sort of danger or something?”

            Thorin seemed to think it over.  “In way, but not ... exactly.”

            “Then what do you think?”  Frerin asked. “Try and think on that moment …” Thorin closed his eyes.  “What did you feel?”

            “That I’d lose him.”

            “In what way?”

            Thorin shook his head.  “I don’t recall anything specific … but looking back I’d have to say that ... he would be taken from me.”

            Frerin was very confused.  “You just met him … I mean, you hadn’t even talked to him, and you’re saying you felt jealousy?”

            “Not jealousy,” Thorin clarified.  “Just that he’d be taken from me; that I’d lose him … and once lost, I’d … I’d never get him back.”

            Frerin took a drink and was glad for a minute to breathe. He’d never once, in his whole life, heard his brother talk like this.  What had passed between Thorin and Bilbo?  What was the root of this connection?  What had Bilbo done or said to warrant these kinds of feelings and reactions?

            Then again, Frerin had to wonder, were these emotions even about Bilbo?

            Glancing at his watch, Frerin said, “It’s getting late. Why don’t we get together tomorrow—”

            “Sounds good.”

            “—and … if you’re of the mind to, maybe we can meet with Dis and get this behind us.”

            Thorin seemed to think it over but then slowly nodded.  “Yeah … you’re right.”

            “She loves you, you know.”

            “I know, it’s just …”

            “She pushes too hard.”

            “Like a battering ram on a glass door.”

            They both laughed at that.

            Thorin ended up taking Frerin back to his hotel.  They had decided to call Dis from there and the three of them would make plans for the next day.

            “Nice room,” Thorin called out, looking around, while Frerin used the loo.

            “Thanks,” Frerin called back.  “What with the push for energy conservation and green living, consulting on Eco-retrofitting buildings has become very lucrative!   You should consider it!”

            “No, thanks,” Thorin laughed.  “I’d rather design those things into a building right from the—”

            Frerin was washed his hands, listening, but Thorin had suddenly gone silent.

            “What were going to say?” Frerin asked as he came back into the room.

            Thorin didn’t respond, keeping his back to Frerin.

            “Something wrong?”

            Thorin slowly turned around.  “You saw him?”

            “Saw who?”

            Thorin held up Bilbo’s business card that Frerin had left lying on the bedside table with all the other small items from Frerin’s pocket. “You went to the teashop and saw Bilbo!”

            “Thorin,” Frerin instantly began to backpedal.  “It’s not what you think.”

            “The fuck it isn’t!” Thorin flung the card away and started for the door. “You fucking played me!”

            “That’s not true—”

            “Once again, you're nothing more than Dis’ little minion!”

            “No, Thorin—”

            Thorin wasn’t listening and pushed past Frerin.

            “Thorin, please don’t—”

            “Fuck off!”  Thorin snarled as he left, slamming the door behind him.

            Frerin knew better than to go after Thorin; there would be no reasoning with him at that point and it was better to leave it for now.  But Frerin couldn’t help but sit on the edge of the bed and cradle his now aching head in his hands. 

            What a mess.

            Sighing, he picked up the phone and dialed his sister.

            “Hello."

            “Bad news,” Frerin replied.

            “What happened?”

            “I’m afraid my curiosity killed more than the cat.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

 

 

            That first day, for Bilbo, had been a nightmare.  After having that first cuppa of green tea and an apple as his breakfast, Bilbo had yogurt and a small salad for lunch.   He thought he was doing fine, but then the headache started.  He figured it was all the toxins or whatever leaving his system, not to mention the lack of caffeine.   That was the only explanation for snapping at customers and being befuddled.  He’d be better by dinner, he assured himself, which turned out to be baked fish with green beans and more green tea.

            Ori has been out all day and left a message that he would be home late. Just as well, as Bilbo’s headache only settled in deeper and he ended up going to bed early.

            After a fitful night sleep, he woke the next day feeling off. He’d been up a couple of times during the night to relieve himself and he just never went back to sleep fully. It felt more like when one took too long at napping and woke up more tired than when they had laid down! He wasn’t rested.

            Once more, he had green tea and this time, the smallest bowl of oatmeal one could make, along with a half a banana.  That seemed to help a bit.   But he found out it was the green tea that was his problem; it was a natural diuretic.

            _Well, no wonder I had to pee like a racehorse all night long!_

The green tea would also explain the _‘astonishing’_ three-kilogram weight loss, but Bilbo knew it was all water weight; it was far too early to see any real results.

            He decided that he’d drink the damn tea only until 6pm and then after that, he’d only have water if he were thirsty, he should be fine during sleep time.

            Sadly, the headache was back by noon the second day.  He ended up taking a couple of paracetamol, but they didn’t really help much; only taking the edge off.  He told himself that being thinner would not happen without a little pain; he’d work through it.

            By Sunday, the headache was gone and he had settled into a routine.

            Breakfast was green tea and either oatmeal with a half a banana, or one boiled egg and a small apple.  Lunch was either yogurt and a salad or salad with tuna, and, of course, green tea. Dinner he’d have either baked fish or chicken and then a green vegetable, green beans, asparagus or Brussels sprouts. Little or no carbs, no treats, no sugars, nothing that he used to eat regularly.

            _‘If it tastes good, it’s not good for you’_ had become his new motto.

            On Monday he’d weighed himself, and was thrilled to see a few more kilograms were gone along with the three the first day!  In total, he’d dropped five-point-two kilos. However, he then promptly reminded himself that it was still most likely only water.

            _Fine._ He told his body, _you want to play rough, then let’s play!_    He started running up and down the stairs, from the ground floor to his fourth floor flat, a couple or three times during the day.  He nearly keeled over the first few times he tried that; his lungs protesting!  But he pushed on and it did seem to help, though not enough.

            Through it all, he had one major problem. 

            Dori.

            Dori seemed to be watching him.

            “Are you alright?” Dori would ask off-handedly now and then.

            “I’m fine,” Bilbo would state, trying to sound cheerful.

            “Are you sure?” Dori pushing back.  “You don’t look fine.”

            “Of course I’m fine.  Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

            “I don’t know,” Dori would step back and tilting his head from side to side. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

            “You’re imaging things.” Bilbo would laugh and hope it sounded normal. “I’m _fine_.”

            Dori would ‘mmph’ but eventually shrug and go back to work.

            All would be quiet, for a bit, and then Dori would start with. “When was the last time you ate?”

            “What?” Bilbo would be caught off guard.

            “Ate,” Dori would say as if Bilbo didn’t actually speak English. “I haven’t seen you nibble a corner of anything or eat much since—”

            “I ate a bit ago.  In the back room.”

            Dori didn’t give up and continued sporadically throughout the day.

            _‘Have you eaten?’_

_‘Do you want something to eat?’_

_‘Try this.’_

_‘Try that.’_

Blah, blah, blah.

However, it got easier to lie. A cheery smile and a quick, _‘I just finished eating’_ , or _‘I’ll eat in just a bit’_ , or _‘I had something earlier’,_ worked very well, especially if he was running around looking busy; Dori wouldn’t bother Bilbo if he looked busy.          

            Gum also worked too.  By chewing something all the time, he gave the illusion of eating and the questions of food dried up.

            Yet, with all his effort, he was barely losing _any_ weight!  Come Thursday, a week after Thorin had left and he'd started his 'new lifestyle', he had dropped a grand total of five-point-four kilos.  Barely enough to register in his mind and frankly, he was hungry, grumpy and thoroughly done with himself!  Every cell, apparently, refused to give up and was hanging on to every particular of fat.

            And to compound insult with injury, Thorin had never come back in. Ori continued to tout the line that Thorin simply had something come up and to not read into the left-scones as anything more than hurried forgetfulness.  He told Bilbo that Thorin’s absence could mean any number of things, with the idea that Bilbo was ‘too fat’ or ‘unwanted’ far down on the list. If Bilbo was really wanting to talk to Thorin, then look the man up online.  Surely Bilbo could Google the guy and find out where he worked; it had to be close if Thorin had been coming in every day at two pm!

            No.

            Bilbo had over stepped.  He had taken what was just a lovely little acquaintance and ruin it.  Just because Thorin came in every day at the same time, didn’t mean he was there for Bilbo; it was probably just his normal break time. Just because Thorin exchanged polite chitchat with Bilbo didn’t mean he wanted to get to know Bilbo more; no one ever wanted more from Bilbo but chitchat.  Just because Thorin suggested Bilbo try savory scones on the menu didn’t mean Thorin was interested in him; Thorin probably just thought Bilbo’s menu was boring and was trying to subtly ask for something along his taste.

            Something different.

            Something better.

            Something, _anything_ , that wasn’t Bilbo.

            And Bilbo, being the total sap that he was, got all dewy-eyed and had actually believed that he could be worthy of a man like Thorin. It would be laughable if the joke wasn’t really on Bilbo.

            No, he’d ruined everything by making ‘special’ things ‘just for Thorin.’ Thorin probably thought Bilbo one of those gay-men that threw himself at any guy that even remotely gave him the time of day.  Thorin probably thought Bilbo a fool. He probably thought he was well rid of Bilbo.

            It was probably all true.

            On the second Friday morning, Bilbo woke with the realization that it had been eight days; eight days and still no Thorin. Thorin was gone and no matter what Bilbo did, even losing weight, the man was not coming back.  Bilbo had totally blown it.

            His appetite died before he ever left the bed.

            No matter.  No point in eating anyway.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine sitting down with Maggie Smith ... playing a modern day version of The Dowager Countess of Grantham from Downton Abbey ... well, you get the idea.

* * *

 

 

_“I can’t believe you were so stupid!” Dis screeched on the phone after Frerin had confessed to Thorin finding Bilbo’s business card._

_“I didn’t mean for him to find it,” Frerin said in his defense._

_“You should have taken your own advice,” Dis stated, “and stayed away!”_

_“I know, I know!” Frerin took a deep breath and sighed. “Look, I’ll call you in the morning and we’ll make a plan.”_

_Dis laughed sardonically. “You still think we can fix this?”_

_Frerin shrugged, not caring that Dis couldn’t see him.  “We have to try.”_

_“Good luck,” Dis said quietly. “To us both.”_

            She had rung off and Frerin ended up sitting on the side of the bed, going over the night in his head.  He’d been so close, so very close, and had he just thrown Bilbo’s business card away or kept it in his pocket, things would still be heading in the right direction.

            As he awoke, he was even less confident of turning things around in the pale morning light than he had in the dark of the evening. Somehow, given all that had happened, Frerin was left quite cold emotionally – not uncaringly cold, but fearful.

            There was only one thing left to do and just the thought scared him.

            Frerin readied himself for what was to come.  He showered, primped and polished himself and his clothes. He had better look his best if he was going to treat with the devil, so to speak.

            Once ready to go, he collected his wallet, key, and mobile and as he shut the door to his room, he called his sister.

            “Good morning,” Dis greeted.

            “I doubt it,” Frerin said honestly.

            “Have you thought about our next move?”

            “I have.”

            “And?”

            “You’ll hate it.”

            “Oh, God.  I know what you’re going to say.”

            “Did you really have a doubt it would end up here?”

            “I hoped we wouldn’t have to go down that road.”

            “Down the primrose path.”

            “Don’t joke.”

            There was a pause before Frerin bravely asked, “Do you want me to go alone?”

            Dis did laugh but it was hollow.  “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

            “After last night, I wouldn’t blame you if—”

            “Don’t be silly.  You may have messed up, but I am still the one that started all this.”

            Frerin didn’t argue that point; it was true.  But he wasn’t going to throw it in Dis’ face either. No need to be cruel.

            “Where are you now?”  Dis asked.

            “Just leaving my hotel,” Frerin replied, as he hailed a taxi.

            “Then met me at my place; we’ll go together.”

            “Right. I’ll call after I hang up.”

            “No … don’t.  We’ll surprise her. She’ll love that.”

            “I doubt that.”

            ”She’s going to be angry when she finds out everything, anyway … not calling beforehand will be the least of our sins.”

            Frerin had to agree. 

            Not twenty minutes later, Dis pulled up to the curb of the large, stately home they were all too familiar with.  The pure white façade and gloss black doors, while elegant, gave one the impression of implacability.  That was certainly true of its resident owner.

            She and Frerin had both decided to wear their best.  It would impress and hopefully smooth everything over.

            “Shall we?” Frerin said, gesturing towards the door as they both got out.

            Dis nodded.  “Remember … just smile and relax.”

            “Didn’t they say the same thing to the poor souls as they were led to the gallows?”

            “I don’t find that funny.”

            “It wasn’t meant to be.”

            Dis proceeded up the stairs to the front door; Frerin close behind his sister. Taking a deep breath, Dis raised her hand, took hold of the brass knocker and knocked.  She thought she was gentle, but the resounding strikes seemed to shake the house within.   It felt that way at least.  Either way, there was no doubting that someone was at the door.

            Seconds later, a rail-thin man in white tie and black tails answered the door. It was an old-fashioned uniform for a butler nowadays but the mistress of the house, who brooked no argument on the subject of decorum, required it.

            “May I help you?” The butler said dispassionately as if he hadn’t known the two visitors since they were wee things in their cradle.

            “Good morning, Jenkins,” Dis said with a smile.  “Is Mrs. Dainson at home?”

            “She is just about to have her breakfast,” Jenkins said, the note of disapproval subtle but clear.

            “Well …” Frerin stated politely, “we can … always wait in the … library or drawing room until she is—”

            “I doubt she would find that acceptable,” Jenkins said, disapproval no longer in question.  “If you will follow me.”

            Entering the house, Jenkins closed the door firmly behind the duo, locking it. He then led them to the small hall at the bottom of the stairs.

            “Wait here, please,” Jenkins said, then turned and ascended the stairs.

            Only the tik-tok of the hall clock sounded, steady and rhythmically. They each looked at the other, silently offering support while they waited.

            It wasn’t a long wait.

            “Dis darling.”

            Both Dis and Frerin turned at the call of Dis’ name.

            “Good morning, Grannie,” Dis said, with a smile.

            “And dear Frerin,” their grandmother, Missus Victoria Dainson, said.

            “Hello, Grandmother,” Frerin said politely.

            “We thought we’d pop in and say hello.” Dis supplied.

            “What a treat,” Victoria said.  “It’s been ages since I have seen you.”

            “Well, with work and all,” Frerin said, unable to think of what exactly ‘all’ would be and hoped his grandmother didn’t ask—

            “All … what?” Victoria asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs and bestowing a kiss on Dis’ cheek and then turning to give one to Frerin.

            “Ah, well,” Frerin stumbled briefly.  “Just … life … in general.”

            “Of course,” Victoria said softly, then gesturing towards the dining room. “Come.  Let us enjoy breakfast while it is still hot.”

            “Oh …” Dis started, “we don’t want to—”

            “Bother you,” Frerin finished.

            “Nonsense,” Victoria state firmly.  “It will give us plenty of time to catch up.  Besides, I’ve already asked Jenkins to set out two more places.”

            Victoria led the way, her walking stick clicking on the high-polished wooden floors.  She took her seat at the head of the table, Dis to her right and Frerin on her left.

            “How is work?” Victoria asked Frerin as she poured tea for them all.

            “Quite well,” Frerin said.  “Busy.”

            “Are you staying with Dis or your brother?”

            “Neither, actually,” Frerin answered.  “I’m staying at The Corinthia Hotel.”

            “I do love The Corinthia,” Victoria smiled.  “And how long will you be in town?”

            “I’m not sure … it’s up in the air.”

            “I see,” Victoria said, helping herself to food on the table. “And how are my great-grandsons?”

            “Working hard,” Dis answered, taking a sip of tea.  “But doing very well.”

            “That wonderful to hear,” Victoria said sweetly.   “And yourself, dear?”

            “I’m … well,” Dis said, smiling.  “Busy like everyone else.”

            “I’m sure,” Victoria said, taking a bite of toast and a sip of tea. “And now you both have come to visit a lonely old woman like myself.”  Victoria giggled at her own joke.

            “You aren’t old, grannie!” Dis laughed with her grandmother, as did Frerin.

            Victoria’s smile vanished.  “Nor am I clueless.”

            Dis and Frerin exchanged a quick look but both felt the temperature in the room drop, as Dis said, “I have no idea—”

            “Don’t play games with me,” Victoria said, giving her grandchildren sharp looks. “Your tricks may work with those more _intellectually challenged_ around you, but not with me.”

            Frerin laughed uneasily, trying to sound relaxed and failing. “Really, Grandma, it’s not what you—”

            “I dare say it’s exactly what I think,” Victoria stated, turning on Frerin. “You claim to be busy with work and yet, you have no date for your departure … I’m doubtful your employer would allow you an open-ended stay, especially at a pricey hotel.  No, they aren't paying for your stay, because you aren’t here for business … it’s a personal matter that’s brought you into town.”  Victoria turned to Dis. “You claim that everyone is busy … so busy, in fact, that my great-grandsons didn’t come along, and yet _you_ were able to just pop out for visiting.”  Victoria raised an imperious eyebrow.  “How is it on a Friday … when you should be up to your neck with work before the weekend, that you're able to not only get away, but that you got out wearing your best frock, and not your usual work suit?”  Dis and Frerin were stunned but said nothing. “This is no spur-of-the-moment visit.  This was a well-planned and carefully orchestrated meeting.”

            Both siblings looked like they wanted to say something but their grandmother held up her hand for silence.

            “Now,” Victoria continued.  “Take all that into consideration and couple it with the fact that your elder brother is absent from this little party; it can only mean one thing …” Victoria looked at Frerin and then back to Dis.  “… once again, you have fouled up something with your brother … and fouled it bad enough that you had to call in your … _partner in crime_ ,” Victoria gestured to Frerin but didn’t look at him, “to help you fix it. Only … he has failed to do so, and you’ve now had to swallow your pride and come seek my assistance.”

            Dis and Frerin were unnerved, anyone could see it.  They hadn’t expected to be seen through so quickly, although, it certainly wasn’t the first time that it had happened.

            “Well …” Dis said slowly.  “It’s not as bad as—”

            “I warn you,” Victoria said, taking a dainty sip of her tea, “any trimming of fat from your story and I will know it.”

            “It’s where to begin, Grandma,” Frerin offered gently.

            “At the beginning of course,” Victoria said.  “I wish to hear all of it, not just the bits and pieces that make you look less guilty.”

            Both siblings nodded, although they were nodding at each other.

            Dis took a deep breath, released it and began.  She told her the family’s observations of Thorin’s behavior. Frerin chimed in and gave Thorin and Bilbo’s backstory and supplied Thorin’s feelings about Bilbo. Dis picked up the story again and confessed what she had done and Thorin’s reactions.  She spoke of calling Frerin and begging him to come to her aid. Frerin told of his long wait and finally meeting with Thorin and disclosed what he had done to worsen the situation the night before.

            “Enough,” Victoria said, striking her walking stick on the floor. “I’ve heard enough.”

            “Grannie,” Dis started.

            “I knew this day would come,” Victoria said stiffly.

            “You knew about Thorin and Bilbo?”  Frerin asked, sounding confused.

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” Victoria stated.  “I’ve never even _heard_ of Thorin’s young man before this morning!”  She took a sip of tea and sighed.  “No. I’ve been waiting for the day you two would finally declare war on your brother’s happiness.”

            Dis chuckled nervously.  “I don’t know if I’d call it—”

            “Really?” Victoria demanded.  “If setting off an atom bomb of emotions for your brother _isn’t_ a declaration of hostilities than I can’t imagine what else you’d call it.”

            Dis and Frerin shifted uncomfortably.

            “Thanks to your meddling and interference,” Victoria said, standing up, “we are now left with no other choice.”

            “What choice?” Dis asked.

            “What do you mean?” Frerin added.

            “It is time for an unconditional surrender,” Victoria said, ringing the bell. “And peace negotiations.”

            “We’ve tried reasoning with him,” Dis stated.

            “He won’t listen to us,” Frerin piped in.

            “I don’t mean you,” Victoria said flatly, just as her butler entered the room.  “Jenkins, will you have the car brought around, please.”

            “Very good, ma’am,” Jenkins said and left the room.

            “It is time I went to see your brother,” Victoria said. “And put an end to this travesty.”

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

 

            Victoria Dainson was not an unkind person.  Far from it.  She gave to charity, championed the meek, and was more than happy to help those lost, whether they be figuratively or literally.

            However, Victoria loved her family above all things.  She would cut off her right arm, and be glad to do it, if it meant securing the welfare of her loved ones.  And of the family, none were as precious to her as her grandchildren, even Dis and Frerin and including her great-grandsons; even when she wanted to put them over her knee and tan their hides for their sometimes-childish behavior.

            But one thing she would not do, _even for her family_ , was lie.  She might remain silent and observant, holding her tongue when the urge to let comments fly nearly overwhelmed her – luckily, as she got older, that urge decreased greatly.  She had even walked away a few times, when Thorin, Dis and Frerin were young, and let the children work out their issues by themselves.

            So, if she were to be honest, while most parents and grandparents would insist that there were no favorites among their offspring, Victoria would confess that Dis had always been favored by her grandfather, Victoria’s husband, Thror, and Frerin was nearly a carbon copy if his father, Thrain, the peacekeeper.

            Thorin, on the other hand – well, Victoria never denied that she had a soft spot for Thorin.  Grew up too young in her opinion; nor surprising when a child lost a mother at the tender age of three.  She, therefore, had not exaggerated when she told Thorin’s siblings that she had foreseen this coming, had foreseen a time when Dis’ and Frerin’s meddling would eventually drive Thorin to the extreme.

            She’d loved to blame that damn teddy bear, but she wouldn’t lie about that either; it may have started with him but it went much deeper than that.

            She walked through the offices of Erebor Architecture without noticing how the office went quiet, nearly everyone slowing or stopping completely to watch her advance through the space; she was too focused on reaching the ‘big office.’

            “Ah … Missus Dainson,” Janie, Thorin’s secretary, stuttered out. “He, uhm … he doesn’t want—”

            “Would you be a dear,” Victoria said sweetly, “and fetch two cups of tea please.”

            “Tea,” Janie repeated like it was a foreign word.

            Victoria said tightly, “Is there a problem with that request?”

            Color drained from Janie’s face.  “No … no, ma’am.”

            “Oh, good,” Victoria smiled sweetly.  “Off you go.”

            As Janie quickly made off, Victoria stepped up to the door and rapped on it with the silver handle of her cane.

            No response.

            She knocked again.

            “I’m busy,” Thorin shouted on the other side.

            “You realize,” Victoria replied imperiously, “that it is good manners to say you’re indisposed to someone’s face, not growl it out like a grumpy bear, hiding in his den!”

            There was a few long moments of silence before the office door flew open.

            “Grandmother,” Thorin said, blinking away his surprised.  “What the hel … I mean … what, brings you here?”

            “Good save,” Victoria said dryly as she walked into Thorin’s office. “And if you have to ask why I’ve come, then you disappoint me … you’re sharper than that.”

            Thorin’s face was an unreadable mask at that.  “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

            “Truly, Thorin, don’t play naïve with me,” Victoria said, taking a seat in front of Thorin’s desk.  “It doesn’t suit you.”

            At that, Thorin slowly moved back behind his desk and Janie walked in carrying two large mugs.

            “Here is your tea, ma’am,” Janie said quietly, setting one mug down on the desk in front of Victoria and placing the other in front of Thorin. She then turned to Victoria, “Is there anything else you’d like?”

            “Yes,” Victoria replied, eye the mug dubiously, “Would you mind terribly closing the door as your leave?”

            Janie looked to Thorin, clearly unused to taking orders from anyone but him.

            “It’s all right, Janie,” Thorin said with a nod.  “You may leave us.”  Thorin said nothing else, merely watching his grandmother look at her tea with near distain.

            “Why must people serve tea in these …” Victoria gestured to her mug, “… _tankards_ , as if we were in a public house?”

            Thorin smiled at that.  “It’s a mug, Grannie.  Not a tankard.”

            Victoria almost sneered.  “It’s certainly not fine china.”  She picked up the heavy mug and took a tentative sip, quickly placing it back on the desk. “Not quite what I am used to.”

            Thorin looked down at his own, and for a moment Victoria saw something like pain flash across Thorin’s visage, only for it disappear as quickly as it appeared. “No.” Thorin whispered softly. “It’s not the same.”

            _Not the same as what Bilbo has made me_ , was left unsaid, but then Victoria didn’t need to hear it to know it.

            It was time.

            “Do you remember, Paddy?” Victoria asked gently.

            Thorin looked up in surprise, as if he had forgotten his grandmother was there. “Who?”

            “I’m not surprised,” Victoria said.  “I’m sure that memory is well and truly buried.”

            “Whom are you talking about?”

            “When your mother died,” Victoria started her tale, “we followed her wishes and had her interred in Yorkshire, near her people.  We were on our way back, planning on having the car met us at Kings Cross.  However, there was some accident or derailment or such, and we were diverted to Paddington instead. Once there, we were able to send a message to our driver of our whereabouts and we settled into to wait for him to turn up.

            “Your grandfather ended up sleeping sitting up, a tight hold on Dis as she slept in his arms—”

            “She was always his favorite.”

            “Yes. Even at 8 months, there was no mistaking that.”  Vitoria took a sip of tea and then continued.  “I held Frerin, who, like his sister, was sound asleep.  Your father, on the other hand, paced and walked about. I think he avoided resting for fear that his grief would catch up.”

            Thorin nodded.  “And what of me?  As I'm sure you have a point to this story.”

            “You?” Victoria smiled. “Well, you wanted to be up with your father, helping if you could, but he told you to stay and watch over your brother and sister and be the big brother.”

            “It started early,” Thorin said, looking at his tea again, but not touching it.

            “Indeed,” Victoria agreed.  “Too early, but I get ahead of myself in a way.”  Thorin looked confused but she pressed on.  “Taking your father’s advice, you sat next to your grandfather, up straight and vigilant as any watchful brother might be.  I knew you were tired, but you were determined to do as your father expected.

            “However, as the minutes ticked by and your sister and brother slept, I realized you had gone very quiet and still.  You were staring off, intensely, but didn’t say a word.  At first I thought you were daydreaming but, no, that wasn’t it.   I called your name a couple of times, but you didn’t hear me ... you were so distracted.    

            “I followed your eye line and, across the way, there was one of those stalls that sold gifts and whatnots … you were transfix by the collection of toys and books about Paddington Bear.   But it was one teddy bear in particular had caught your attention. He was almost as big as you were, maybe a few centimetres smaller, and while most were dressed in Paddington’s traditional blue coat and red hat, and a few in red coats with blue hats, he was the  _only one_ wearing a yellow coat and matching yellow hat.  Whenever anyone walked near it, you’d stiffen until they passed it by; one woman actually picked it up and I’d thought you’d faint from holding your breath.  When she put it down, I watched you visibly deflate and breathe again.

            “Before I could catch your attention, your father returned and stated that the car had arrived.  Porters gathered our luggage, your father took your hand and he began to lead us all towards the exit.  You looked back over your shoulder, miserably, as if willing the little bear to trot after you. To your credit, you never said a word, never argued, never begged to go back or for your father to purchase it for you; you just did as you were told and came along.

            “Well … what was a grandmother to do?  Without a second thought, I went over, handed the proprietor the money and scooped up the bear as fast as I could.  When I reached the car, you were already settled in the back, looking terribly sad.  I don’t think I need to tell you that the moment I placed him in your arms, one would have sworn I’d given you all of King Midas’ treasure.  ‘ _Take good care of him and love him, and he will love you back’_ I said.  If only I knew then what a curse that would become.”

            “Why are you telling me this?” Thorin said, leaning forward. “I don’t remember having a teddy bear.”

            Victoria shook her head, sadly.  “As I said before, I don’t doubt that you have forgotten; on purpose, I am sure.”

            “What does this have to do with—”

            “You took me at my word,” Victoria said, ignoring Thorin’s question. “You named him Paddy, and where you went, he went.  When you came to dinner, he sat in the chair next to yours.  When you sat and watched television, he sat next to you on the couch. He was next to when you read, when you studied, even sitting in the bathroom while you bathed. And at night, as your snuggled close with him, I would often overhear you whispering to him ... telling him your thoughts and dreams. He was your confidant, your best friend … the one being you loved most I think.  But like so much in your life, it was not to last.”

            Thorin was confused.  “I don’t understand.”

            “You will,” Victoria said softly.  “Regrettably, you will.”  She took a sip of tea before continuing.  “As the years progressed, you and your bear remained inseparable.  However, children grow up and things change.”

            “It’s not odd for children to cast off their old toys—”

            “You weren’t the one to change.”

            Thorin was again perplexed but said nothing.

            “Your brother and sister grew,” Victoria said, “and naturally became their own, little people. Normally, you had no issue with sharing many of your toys and games and whathave with them … you’d been taught already by your father to watch over Dis and Frerin and be ‘the big brother.’ But there was one thing you would not share.”

            “Paddy,” Thorin whispered.

            “Correct,” Victoria said.  “Try as she might, Dis could never get her hands on him.  She used to use Frerin as a lookout and sneak into your room when you were gone.  But you were too clever, and had already begun hiding Paddy where she either could not find him or could not _reach_ him.

            “So, she got clever in return.  One weekend you had gone to stay over with Dwalin, and she snuck in and found where you had hidden Paddy; up high in your closet.  Undeterred, she knew enough to not seek my assistance as I would have refused, and not your father’s who would have been cross for her sneaking in.  Instead, she went to the one person who would refuse her nothing—”

            “Granddad.”

            “—and asked him to reach a toy she wanted.  Your grandfather didn’t think twice of going in your room, taking the bear down and handing it over.  As far as he was concerned, whatever toy Dis wanted and had in her hands was her toy.”

            Thorin said nothing, clearly understanding too well.

            “When you arrived home,” Victoria said, “the first thing you did was go for Paddy … but he wasn’t there.  You found him in your sister’s room, lying on the floor where she had discarded him and you stole him back.  She protested but you yelled that he was yours and she couldn’t have him ...  _ever_. Well, she ran to your grandfather and he sided with her.  You were too grown up for teddy bears, he said, big boys don’t play with dolls. However, you refused; Dis cried and cried but you wouldn’t give in.  I tried to intervene but in the end I was outnumbered, your father hated for there to be discord between you three, and sided with your grandfather; saying that as a big brother, you needed to care for your sister and brother and and that meant sharing.  You had no choice but hand Paddy over to your sister.

            “From then on, whenever you discovered Paddy abandoned by Dis, you took him back to your room. Dis, of course, would come along behind you and steal him back.  You even locked your room a few times, but Dis, being clever and not wanting to look like a tattletale, asked your grandfather if she could lock her room, to which he said _‘No, children cannot lock their rooms’_ , and then Dis said, _‘But Thorin locks his.’_   That put an end to your trying to lock Paddy away from her.

            “This tug-a-war continued for months; that poor bear traveled back and forth from her room to yours.  Then, one day, after being gone all day with Dwalin, you came home and tried to find Paddy but he was nowhere. You finally demanded Dis to tell you where he was but she didn’t know.  Turns out that shortly after you had left that morning, Nanny took Dis and Frerin to the park and she had taken Paddy with her—”

            Thorin closed his eyes, it was clear where the story was going.

            “—in her carelessness, Dis had left Paddy at the park, unnoticed by Nanny.”

            “Typical.”

            “You were frantic,” Victoria stated.  “You insisted on going to look for him but it was already getting dark. Somehow, you slipped away and we found you, an hour later, wandering around the park, in the dark, crying and calling out to Paddy as if he would hear you and come to you. You were covered in dirt, apparently having crawled under benches and bushes in your search.  Your grandfather scolded you for disobeying and your father for making him worry.  But you didn’t say a word as we led you back … you didn’t talk at all for the rest of the night; even when you were put to bed and wished good-night, you said nothing. Hours later, when I went to check on you, I found you sitting in your window, just staring, watching … I think hoping for Paddy to come home.  But he never did.

            “Your sister was unfazed … she was three and she had plenty of teddies and dollies and toys … what did she care about one lost teddy bear ... a used one at that ... she had only ever wanted Paddy because she couldn’t have him before.  Your grandfather didn’t understand all the fuss, it was only a teddy bear he’d say, and he thought you childish for getting attached to a stuff toy.  Your father was convinced that you’d be fine … in time. All children had favorite toys that get lost or broken, and they come around … he was convinced that this was no different.

            “But as the days turned into weeks, as your sadness turned to a kind of depression, as you only said a handful of words, your father came to realized that Paddy has been real to you.  So, he went out and bought you a new one.  He figured that would fix it.”

            “But it didn’t,” Thorin said, now remembering his lost friend.

            “No, it didn’t,” Victoria said.  “When you opened the box, you just sat there … staring at the new Paddington Bear inside.  After a few minutes you said, _‘It’s not the same.’_ Your father laughed and said, of course it was.  But you shook your head. He pointed out that it was the same size and he’d even found one with the same yellow coat and hat. But you looked at him, and in the most hollow, empty voice, said _‘It’s not Paddy. It’s not the same.’_ You then picked up the bear and placed it in Dis’ lap; she was thrilled.  Your father insisted that it was yours and you didn’t have to share it if you didn’t want to, but you shrugged your shoulders and said, _‘It doesn’t matter.  She’ll get it anyway in the end’_ and you walked away.

            “Eventually you became yourself again.  Your grandfather crowed that he'd been proven right after all, and your father was just relieved that it seemed over with.  But I saw the change it wrought in you.  You gave away all your stuffed toys … every single one of them ended up in Dis’ or Frerin’s room.  You were too grown up for toys you’d say, sounding more like your grandfather and father. You grew quieter, more reserved ... less willing to share yourself with others … especially your brother and sister.  You hid the things you loved jealously.  Did that mean your sister and brother didn’t try and ‘borrow’ them?  No.  You just grew more secretive.

            “But even worse, as time went on, it wasn’t just objects and possessions you hid, but yourself as well.  You squirreled away your feelings … your heart as it were, and you rarely shared that with another. And here you are now, a grown man, facing the disregard of his siblings over something you held dear … once more, they have failed to see how deeply you cared for this  young man.”

            “Once again,” Thorin said, his eyes a little watery, “I’ve lost that which I loved the most.”

            “There is a difference, though.”

            “What’s that?”

            “Paddy was never found … he was lost completely.  But Bilbo is right across the street … he is right here … all you have to do is step up and claim him.”

            There was but a moment’s hesitation before Thorin was up and out the door.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SHOCKED by the response the last chapter received! I had no idea what it would bring out in my readers ... I hope you all can forgive me for this one ...

* * *

 

 

            Thorin had failed.

            Thorin had failed _him_.

            Throughout his grandmother’s story, the memories slowly came back. That feeling of comfort when Paddy was next to him, the feeling of Paddy’s gentle weight when sitting in Thorn’s lap, the feeling of Paddy’s soft fur under his fingers as they snuggled, and even the cool feeling of Paddy’s nose when Thorin would kiss it good night. But what overwhelmed Thorin in the end was the remembered feeling of utter failure; when his almost seven year-old self had realized that Paddy was lost.

            And it had been Thorin's fault.

            No one had been watching that closely; so it wasn’t that hard to slip out the back door.  The park was near, only a few streets over and he thought, if he hurried, he’d find Paddy; convinced that Paddy was sitting on a bench, waiting for Thorin to come collect him.

            But Paddy wasn’t.

            Thorin searched logically.  First the kiddie areas; the swings, the sandboxes.  Then he moved out from there; the benches, the picnic areas, tables, even gazebos and so forth.  He ran down paths and looked under bushes along the way.  He didn’t care about getting dirty; all he thought of was Paddy, alone and scared and crying - just like Thorin was – hoping that Thorin would find him.

            As the night descended, Thorin’s desperation took him and he began to shout Paddy’s name; maybe Paddy would finally answer back as Thorin always hoped he would one day. 

            By the time his family found him, Thorin had given up all hope.

            Thorin had failed to keep Paddy safe.

            He’d had failed him completely.

            He’d failed.

            Thorin was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. He barely heard his grandfather and father scold him.  Barely heard his grandmother put his grandfather in his place with a single one-liner. Was only marginally aware of being undressed, bathed and dressed in warm clothes.  He ignored dinner, he ignored questions, and he ignored everyone around him. When he was put to bed that night, the only thing he was aware of was how big and empty his bed was now.

            He got up some time in the night.  He went to his bedroom window, overlooking the street below. The streetlight cast a yellow circle on the walk in front of the house and Thorin sat there, silent and staring, at the bright circle of light, waiting for Paddy to miraculously walk into it and show he’d come home; come back to Thorin.

            But, of course, Paddy never did come home.

            As time went forward, Thorin convinced himself he was fine. He told himself that he didn’t know anyone or anything named Paddy.  He didn’t own a teddy bear, never did, and never had.  He gave away his stuffed animals because, oddly, he suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of them – he convinced himself he didn’t know why that was.

            He would cringe, as he got older, whenever children, adults – _anyone_ – would anthropomorphize pets or toys. Stuffed animals don’t hearts or feelings or emotions, not like humans do.  How silly, how totally ridiculous - who would believe such a thing?

            Just one more layer of denial on top of the many that were there.

            Thorin couldn’t deny his feelings anymore.  His behavior was clearer and he now understood his own pain and grief when Dis had shown up at the teashop.  As odd as it sounded, he had been overwhelmed by his long buried belief that he had failed to keep Paddy safe and he had unconsciously felt the same over Bilbo; he’d loose him in the end; he’d fail him too.

            He moved as quickly as he could around those in the lobby of his building, he avoided the masses on the walk outside, and was able to maneuver across traffic easily.  He had a goal, he would not be dissuaded.  Nothing would stop him now.

            Entering the teashop was like coming back home. Its warmth hit him and he was enveloped in its comfort and familiarity.  He was filled with a feeling of belonging.  But he had to find Bilbo.  He looked around quickly; not by the bookcases, not around the tables, not behind the counter—

            Thorin stilled; there was Bilbo standing at far end of the counter, Dori standing next to him and a copper-haired young man on Bilbo’s other side.

            But something wasn’t right.

            Something was wrong.

            Bilbo looked ill.  There were dark circles under his eyes and he was pale, his skin had a sort of waxy, sallow-look to it. Bilbo appeared – well, he looked tired, stretched almost.  And apparently Thorin wasn’t the only to notice, his friends worn near-matching expressions of concern. 

            Bilbo seemed to be waving his friends off, clearly ignoring their concerns and whatever it was they were saying to him.  Bilbo was stepping away from his friends, backing up, his back to Thorin.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin said, as he closed the distance between them.

            Bilbo spun around and, up close, he looked worse than he had from across the room. “Thorin …” Bilbo said hoarsely, his eyes brightening for just a moment.

            Then everything went downhill.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Bilbo was so tired.

            Drained really.

            He told himself to get over it. He had to grow up and deal with things. Okay, so, Thorin was gone and not coming back.  It’s not like this hadn’t happened before to Bilbo. How many men had he’d known that had done the same thing?  He was their friend, their confidant, their sounding board, their _commiserator_ , whatever they needed him to be, when they needed him - except a lover.

            He’d been alone before he met Thorin, he’d be alone after Thorin was gone. Well, he was already alone now.

            He’d be fine.

            At least, he continued to tell himself he would be.

            And really, what was there to be surprised about?  What did Bilbo Baggins have to offer a man like Thorin Thrainson? Position?  Money?  Help with his business?  Bilbo would add very little, he was sure, to Thorin’s life or lifestyle.  It was laughable really.     

            Thorin wouldn’t want to show off Bilbo to anyone.  What would Thorin’s friends and acquaintances think of him for mixing with some shop owner?  What would Thorin’s family think?   That is supposing they even acquiesced in offering to meet Bilbo in the first place.  Granted this wasn’t the era of _Downton Abbey_ but, still, it was almost a ridiculous thought; inviting a middle class shop owner to dinner.

            It was hard to think on, actually; Bilbo couldn’t concentrate.

            He was feeling odd.  He couldn’t hold a cup without rattling it; Dori joked that Bilbo was going to shake the cups until they broke.  But Bilbo was feeling a little dizzy.

            “Are you okay?”

            Bilbo turned, and Ori was standing next to him – when had he walked up to him? “I’m fine.”

            “You don’t look fine,” Ori insisted.

            “I’m telling you—”

            “What’s going on?” Dori asked coming up on Bilbo’s other side.

            “Bilbo isn’t well,” Ori stated.

            “Don’t be sill—”

            “Ori’s right,” Dori said.

            Bilbo was getting irritated.  “Just stop, both of you.”

            “You should lie down,” Dori said.

            “Agreed,” Ori said, “You look like you’re going to fall down.”

            “I’m no such thing!”  Bilbo started pulling at his collar, it was so hot in there, he was sweating and his heart was pounding in his chest.

            “You are,” Dori said, reaching out and taking Bilbo’s arm. “Come in the back, eat something and rest.”  Ori reached for the other arm, but Bilbo brushed them off.

            “I’d be fine,” Bilbo said, squirming out of his friend’s hold. “If you two would stop hounding me!”

            Bilbo backed away from them; his head was pounding along with his heart and he just – he just wanted - what did he want? 

            The room was spinning now.

            “Bilbo.”

            He turned and there was, “Thorin,” Bilbo croaked out and, oh God, Thorin looked so handsome, so wondrous and he was there, right there!

            But Bilbo suddenly felt light, like he was filled with nothing but air and it was going out of him.  The last thing he saw was Thorin’s face as the darkness rose up and claimed him.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

            As Bilbo slowly awoke, there was only sound at first.

            “Is he all right?”

            “I believe so.”

            “What do you need?”

            “Space … you all need to stand back.”

            “Should we call an ambulance?”

            “Don’t be overdramatic.”

            “I’m not—”

            “You are. Relax and let me work.”

            “Someone should be out front.”

            “You go … I’ll stay.”

            His finger hurt – why did his finger hurt? There was a strange taste in his mouth, like sour cherries or something. It wasn’t _unpleasant_ , just not – pleasant.

            “He’s coming around.”

            “Thank god.”

            Bilbo took a breath and when he opened his eyes, he saw - he saw the ceiling. “What—”

            “Welcome back,” said a calm voice.

            Bilbo turned his head and saw a grey-haired, bearded gentleman, wearing a lab coat, holding Bilbo’s arm, pressing his fingers to Bilbo’s wrist, and looking at his own watch intently; taking Bilbo’s pulse. There was also a stethoscope round the man’s neck.   “Who are you?”

            The gentleman smiled but doesn’t look up from his watch. “Doctor Groinson. But you may call me Oin if you wish.”

            “Where am I?” Bilbo actually knew already; he was lying on the couch in what passed as a back office/break room.   “How did I get—”

            “You fainted,” Oin answered.

            Bilbo made a face. “I’ve never fainted in my—”

            “You have now.”

            Bilbo closed his eyes and left Oin to his own devices. He felt marginally better than he had that morning and as Bilbo took a few breaths, his mind settled and cleared a bit. He remembered arguing with Dori and Ori over – over something, and then – then – that part was still a little fuzzy.

            "Why does my mouth taste funny?" Bilbo asked.

            "Your blood sugar was low," Oin said.  "I gave you some dextrose gel to increase it."

            "Cherry flavor, yes?"

            Oin smiled as an answer but didn't comment further.  “Have you been ill lately?” Oin asked softly.

            “No,” Bilbo answered.

            “No nausea or vomiting?”

            There’d been nausea, but, “No.” He wasn’t going to confess anything.

            Oin cocked an eyebrow, clearly not buying Bilbo’s answer, but he pushed on. “Any chronic illnesses?”

            “No.”

            “Any cardiac or renal diseases?”

            “Ah … _what_?”

            Oin smiled. “Heart or kidney.”

            “Oh … no.”

            “Do you have blood sugar issues? Diabetes or Hypoglycemia?”

            “No, not that I’m—”

            “Your last full meal?”

            “I can’t remem—” Bilbo froze, Oin smirked knowingly and Bilbo realized he’d been led into a trap.

            “I told you!”

            Bilbo turned and noticed that Ori was standing off to one side. “What did you tell them?”

            Ori looked pissed-off. “Did you really think Dori and I didn’t notice you skipping meals and not eating?”

            “I’m fine.”

            “You’re not!”

            “I am too … if you’d just—”

            “Enough,” Oin said firmly, bringing the bickering friends to silence. He turned to Bilbo, “You’re vitals are stable but you should go for further testing.”

            “I don’t need—”

            “Bullshit,” Oin said, smiling at Bilbo’s shocked expression. “You need to at least see your G.P. and follow-up with blood work.”

            “I don’t have a G.P.,” Bilbo confessed.

            “Well, you do now,” Oin said, standing up and giving Bilbo a stern look. “I expect you in my office first thing Monday morning … unless you have another episode this weekend, in which case you’re to go directly to hospital.”

            “I have a business to run, I can’t—”

            “He’ll be there,” said a strong voice behind Bilbo.

            Bilbo’s stomach dropped and he now remembered what he thought was only his imagination; Thorin coming back into the shop. _Great, fainted and right in front of fucking Thorin of all people! Could my life be any more pathetic?!_

“Good,” Oin said, gathering his bag; Thorin came from behind Bilbo and walked Oin to the door. He and Thorin entered a barely audible, whispered conversation. “May I assume, he’s your daily two o’clock _appointment_?”

            Thorin’s cheeks colored, but he held his head up, unabashed. “Yes.”

            Oin nodded slowly, giving Bilbo a quick glance, smiling, and then told Thorin, “I expect you to take care of him until I see him next.”

            “I promise.”

            “Good.”

            Thorin took Oin’s arm and stopped the man before he walked out, saying, “ _May I assume_ you will not share today’s events with—”

            “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” Oin whispered, almost sounding offended. “It’s no one’s business … _no one’s_.” Oin didn’t need to say who ‘no one’ was. “The only reason I let you stay is you were already here.”

            “Thank you,” Thorin whispered back.

            Oin looked and pointed a finger at Bilbo. “Don’t disappointment me,” he said, “Monday morning, my office … or I’ll march myself across the street and draw your blood right at your front counter.”

            Bilbo blanched at the thought. “Okay, okay … I’ll be there.”

            Oin laughed and walked out.

            Thorin drew a deep breath, released it and then looked at Bilbo, his express a mix of many things. “Why haven’t you been eating?”

            “Tell him,” Ori said from the side.

            Bilbo had almost forgotten Ori was there, but didn’t answer.

            “Tell me, what?” Thorin stated.

            “The truth,” Ori said. “And I’ll tell him if—”

            “Shut up, Ori,” Bilbo ground out.

            “He deserves to know,” Ori countered, ignoring Bilbo.

            “Whatever it is,” Thorin said. “I’d like to know.”

            Bilbo wasn’t sure what to say. How does one confess their feelings and how stupid they’ve been all in the same breath?

            The door opened and Dori poked his head in. “I saw the doctor leave. How is he? Is he okay?!”

            “I’m fine.”

            “No you’re not,” both Ori and Thorin stated in unison and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

            Obviously sensing the change in the room, Dori motioned for Ori. “Come help me out front.”

            Ori was indignant. “But, Bilbo—”

            “Is perfectly fine with Thorin here,” Dori said, coming into the room and taking Ori by the arm. “You … out.”

            “But …” Ori didn’t resist but he did continue to protest. “He’s my friend! I need to—”

            “Give him space,” Dori said, pulling Ori out the door. “Honestly, the two of you,” was the last thing heard before the door closed.

            The ringing silence lasted a few long seconds before Thorin broke it. “Alone at last.”

            Bilbo remained silent; unsure what to say.

            “Bilbo …” Thorin said gently, taking the chair from Bilbo’s desk and turning around so that he could sit in front of Bilbo.

            Bilbo only looked at his lap; calm but for the emotions and thoughts swirling within him.

            “What did Ori mean about telling me the truth?”

            No answer.

            “Won’t you tell me?”

            No answer.

            “Won’t you at least talk to me? Please?”

            Bilbo wanted to – God he wanted to! Like a damn wanting to burst from the pressure, but he couldn’t find the words! What should he say? How could he make this better? How could he make them better? Where were the easy banter, the casual conversations, the welcomed smiles and shy glances?   Why couldn’t he even look up, into the face of the man he—

            “Are you angry with me?” Thorin asked softly.

            “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” Bilbo shouted, giving Thorin a glare, shocked for a moment, maybe even more than Thorin seemed to be, at his outburst, but the damn was breached and there was holding back the tide. “I’VE WAITED FOR … I … I mean … I’ve been …”

            “You’re angry with me,” Thorin stated; his pain clear as he looked down at his own feet.

            Yes, Bilbo was angry … he was angry at Thorin for being gone, he was angry with Ori for pushing, and he was angry at himself for being an idiot and letting things get this far. Yet, despite his anger, he was elated that Thorin was here; he was elated that Thorin had cared and had stayed! But on top of it all, he was scared. Scared to confess his actions and reasons, scared to confess his doubts and insecurities, and completely, utterly terrified to confess to Thorin that he was falling in love with him.

            “If you want,” Thorin said miserably, “I’ll go.”

            That broke Bilbo’s heart. “I _don’t_ want you to go.”

            Thorin didn’t look up but he slowly reached for Bilbo’s hands, Bilbo rushed to reach for Thorin’s in turn, to take into his own, their fingers intertwining, the warmth of their touching spreading and filling Bilbo. They sat there, for what seemed a small eternity, holding each other’s hands, Thorin tracing circles over Bilbo’s knuckles with his thumbs and Bilbo giving Thorin’s hands gentle squeezes to let the man know he should continue.

            “Where have you been?” Bilbo asked quietly, “And what brought you back?”

            Thorin released a tired sigh. “It’s long story.”

            Bilbo nodded, resigned. “And one you’d rather not share, I take it.”

            “Far from it,” Thorin rushed to say, finally looking up and meeting Bilbo’s gaze. “I want to tell you … I want you to … to know the truth.”

            “I’m not going anywhere,” Bilbo said, softly. He so wanted to hear whatever it was that Thorin had to say.

            “But will you tell me why you’ve not been eating?” Thorin asked, holding Bilbo’s hands a little tighter. “What happened?”

            Bilbo paused for a moment. “It too is a long story.”

            Thorin said gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

            Bilbo was suddenly very nervous. “I asked you first.”

            Thorin smiled. “That’s an evasion.”

            Bilbo nodded. “I know. Is it working?”

            Thorin laughed, warming Bilbo’s heart. “I was very upset with my … with my sister.”

            “Your _sister_?” Bilbo didn’t understand.

            Thorin nodded. “She had followed me into the teashop that day. I hadn’t expected it and it … angered me.”

            Bilbo thought he got it now. “You were mad because you didn’t want them to know you were … _friendly_ , with some portly, little shop owner.”

            Thorin looked confused. “What does your owning a shop have to do with anything?” Thorin sounded almost offended. “And who the hell said anything of ‘portly?’”

            “Nothing,” Bilbo said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interup—”

            “It’s not nothing,” Thorin said. “Did you think because you own a shop, I judged you for it?”

            What could Bilbo say? He shrugged; he had thought it to be honest.

            “You don’t understand,” Thorin said with a huff.

            “You’re right,” Bilbo said, a little irritated. “I don’t understand … you come in every day and we exchange chit-chat for months and then suddenly, you just … vanish! Of course I don’t understand! And now you tell me your sister comes in and you were angry she was here, so what else could I think but that you were ashamed about me—”

            “That’s not it!”

            “—and didn’t want your family to know you were seeing some rotund, little fat guy!

            “Wait a minute,” Thorin demanded. “Are you telling me that you’ve been making yourself sick because you think you’re over-weight or something?!”

            _Well … crap._ Bilbo hadn’t planned that out. But he couldn’t deny it and his silence was enough for Thorin.

            “I don’t know where you got _that_ idea,” Thorin said, mad, “but … give me a break; you aren’t _‘fat!’_ ”

            “Aren’t I?” Bilbo insisted; Thorin must be blind.

            “No!” Thorin spat out.

            Bilbo huffed. “Well, I don’t look like you.”

            “Thank god,” Thorin said. “I have zero interest in dating myself.”

            “But you’re so …” Bilbo shrugged. “ _Attractive_ , and—”

            “So are you!”

            “I’m not.”

            “You are to me!” Thorin stated. “You’re not fat … you’re not portly, or rotund, or any of that shit!”

            “I’m not tall and slim,” Bilbo countered. “Like you are.”

            Thorin sighed. “So? Chalk that up to genetics and a great deal of exercise … which I use as a stress reliever. And believe me, this week, I’ve needed it.”

            Bilbo nodded. “Because of your anger with your sister.”

            “No, Bilbo,” Thorin said firmly, “it’s because I haven’t seen you.”

            “Really?” Had Bilbo heard that correctly?

            Thorin nodded. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly. “A great deal. Don’t you know that? Haven’t you realized that I come in every day _just_ to see you?”

            Bilbo shook his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure you weren’t just being friendly.”

            “No,” Thorin said. “You’re the reason I look forward to my afternoon break. Hell, you’re the reason I even _take_ an afternoon break.   You’re … you’re the brightest part of my day.”

            Bilbo couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. “I am?”

            Thorin nodded. “Before you, my life was … dull. I always hoped for more, but I’ve never met anyone that could fulfill me … that could make me feel whole. Then … then I met you.”

            “And I make you feel that?”

            “You make me feel like I’m home.”

            “I thought I’d overplayed my hand,” Bilbo said; if Thorin could confess, then Bilbo felt he should as well. “I thought you weren’t interested in more and when I told you I made those scones just for you, you thought me foolish or weren’t interested and that was why you left them—”

            “Oh, shit.”

            “—and I figured since I was always called ‘chubby’ or ‘porky’ or ‘fat’ growing up, that must be the reason I couldn’t find someone—”

            “I forgot them in my anger, nothing more!”

            “—and so I started cutting back on the sweets and dieting but then it just got away from me and I hoped that you would notice when you came back, but the days went on and you didn’t come back—”

            “I’m sorry, I thought Dis had ruined everything.”

            “—and I figured you weren’t interested in more with me—”

            “I do want more with you!”

            Bilbo paused, letting Thorin’s words sink in. “You … you do?”

            Thorin nodded. “Very much so. I want to explore what is between us … if there is anything left between us, that is … unless I’ve ruined it.”

            “You haven’t!” Bilbo wasn't letting Thorin go now. “Truly you haven’t!”

            Thorin smiled at that. “Do you want more than chit-chat and tea between us?” Thorin quipped.

            Bilbo laughed and it felt so good to laugh again. “Oh, yes. I do.”

            The clock chimed and both turned to look at it.

            “It’s noon,” Bilbo said softly. “Not quite two, but … would you like some tea?”

            Thorin laughed himself. “Actually, I’d like to take you to lunch.”

            “You just want to see me eat something,” Bilbo said amused.

            “I would feel better if you did,” Thorin stated.

            Bilbo honestly felt too good to eat, but he understood. “I have a better idea,” Bilbo offered, standing up but not letting go of Thorin’s hands. “Why don’t you let me make us both lunch and we can continue our talk.”

            Thorin stood, giving Bilbo’s hands a gentle squeeze. “On one condition.”

            “What’s that?” Bilbo said, allowing Thorin to pull him closer.

            Thorin rested his forehead on Bilbo’s and both gave out a silent sigh. “You let me help you … we do it together.”

            “I can live with that,” Bilbo said, as he released one of Thorin’s hands and led the taller man up the stairs to his flat on the top floor. He could easily live with so much as long as Thorin was with him, he thought, but kept it to himself for the time being.

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

 

 

            Lunch wasn’t anything spectacular. Well, Bilbo didn't think so anyway; Thorin on the other hand was impressed. Croque-monsieur sandwiches along with Bilbo’s homemade cream of tomato soup, a light salad, Highland Spring water and a bottle of La Petite Fessardiere on the side. Frankly, Thorin was thrilled to just be there with Bilbo, so the menu didn’t matter to him; not that he said so to Bilbo. But Bilbo seemed to feel the same; light touches as they worked around each other – which was surprisingly easy in Bilbo’s small kitchen – shy glances and jokes, little teases, here and there.

            “Did you _just use a butter knife_ to cut the sandwiches?” Bilbo asked, joking in indignantly.

            “Is there are problem with that?” Thorin asked in reply, a smirk on his face.

            “They make knifes for cutting, you know.”

            “I thought _any_ knife was made for cutting.”

            “No! And it depends on what you are cutting! But a butter knife is for—”

            “Butter?”

            “Spreading! Not cutting. Look … right there … _that_ is _a serrated_ knife, right in the block next you, and—”

            “But this worked fine, so what’s the problem?”

            Bilbo gaped at Thorin in mock horror, while Thorin just stood there smirking.

            “Words escape me,” Bilbo snarked, hiding a smile.

            “Evidence to the contrary,” Thorin replied, not bothering to hide his smile.

            Despite the easy conversation and kidding, the last few days could not be ignored. As they ate, Thorin told Bilbo everything. From his feelings right from the start, his desire to protect Bilbo, Dis’ and Frerin’s meddling, his reaction and anger, as well as the story his grandmother had told and his confession that, now that it had been pointed out to him so blatantly, he did indeed tend to hide his feelings and emotions, horde those things that were dear to him from the rest of his family and friends.

            “It’s silly,” Thorin said quietly when he had finished. “To act in such a manner—”

            “It’s not silly!”

            “—especially when one thinks it began with a teddy bear.”

            “You’re mistaken,” Bilbo said softly. “Regardless of how it began, the truth of the matter was you felt betrayed.”

            Thorin shrugged. “Maybe … but it doesn’t really excuse me acting childish.”

            “You were hurting,” Bilbo countered. “ _Alone_ and hurting … and that’s all that really concerns me.”

            Thorin’s cheeks colored at that but he was touched; especially when Bilbo continued.

            “From this point on,” Bilbo said, “If something bothers you or you are feeling hurt or down, you tell me.” Bilbo seemed to realize how he sounded and blinked a bit. “I mean … that is … if … if I have such a right to … ask that.”

            Thorin took Bilbo’s hand. “You have more than a right to ask that. I give you that right.”

            It was Bilbo’s turn to color and Thorin was enchanted when Bilbo’s ears turned a pale shade of red.

            “However,” Thorin said, “you must do the same for me. Tell me if you are hurting or in need or need me?”

            Bilbo blushed even more but ducked his head rather than answer.

            “Why did you try to starve yourself?” Thorin asked.

            “I wasn’t trying to starve myself,” Bilbo answered. “Per se,” he added just barely audible.

            But Thorin heard him. “Then what were you trying to do?”

            “I just wanted to loose a little,” Bilbo said, still not looking at Thorin.

            “Why?”

            Bilbo shrugged.

            “You don’t know?”

            No answer.

            “Or you don’t want to tell me?”

            Bilbo sighed. “It’s silly.”

            “To paraphrase someone I care a great deal about,” Thorin said softly, “You were hurting so I don’t think it was silly.”

            Bilbo nodded, resigned. He was quiet for a minute before finally looking at Thorin. “I’ve always been a little … on the fuller size.”

            “Which is fine, by the way.”

            “Most of my family is the same way,” Bilbo added. “But I have one side of the family that is not and they do not hesitate to remind us … those 'less than perfect', that we don’t measure up.”

            “What did your parents say?”

            “To just ignore them. I mean, my cousins have always found something to put others down for.”

            “There you go.”

            “But I heard it all the time that I was fat, or chubby, or rotund, or portly or … what-have-you.”

            “They’re wrong, sweetheart.”

            Bilbo blushed again. “When I was young I did ignore them, or tried to ... but as I got older—”

            “It stuck with you.”

            Bilbo nodded. “Everyone I seemed to fancy, wanted to be friends.”           

            “I do want us to be friends.”

            “But they wanted to be _only_ friends, or needed a sounding board, or someone to sleep with, but never seemed to want more than those things.”

            “Well, I do want more.”

            “When you left,” Bilbo said, looking apologetically at Thorin, “I thought I’d done something wrong—”

            “It wasn’t you, babe.”

            “I know that now, but at the time … I thought you were uninterested like the others and I feared i'd overstepped.”

            “So you said before.”

            “I thought that maybe if I were thinner and more attractive—”

            “You’re very attractive.”

            “—you might want me—”

            “I always wanted you.”

            “—and loosing weight seemed like the first step—”

            “You should never change for someone else.”

            “—but it all got away from me and before I knew it … well, you saw what I did to myself.”

            Thorin took both of Bilbo’s hands in his own; he loved the feel of Bilbo’s smaller hands in his. “I can understand how it could happen,” Thorin said quietly. “And I know how things can stick with you, but you are not any of the things that your cousins said to you.”

            “You can’t deny that I am … stockier than you.”

            Thorin nodded. “I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive or that you have to change. I could turn it around and say that I am too skinny and tall for you.”

            “I think you're perfect.”

            “I’m far from perfect, love.”

            Bilbo smiled and shrugged. “You’re perfect to me.”

            Thorin smiled. “And that is the point I am trying to make to you; you are perfect in my eyes. Kind, funny, considerate, honest, brave—”

            “Brave? Me?”

            “You opened a shop all on your own and are making a hell of business out of it in a short time. It’d call that brave. And intelligent to boot.”

            Bilbo blushed but smiled at the compliment.

            “If you can see me as perfect,” Thorin continued. “Why can’t you accept that you're perfect to me?”

            Bilbo tilted his head from side to side. “I don’t know … hard to wrap my head around the idea.”

            “Well, try,” Thorin insisted. “But I will tell you everyday if I need to.”

            “Please don’t,” Bilbo said in a small voice.

            “Why not?”

            “Because,” Bilbo sighed again. “After a while, I will just think you're only saying it out of habit.”

            Thorin sighed himself; he got that. “Then I will have to show you.”

            “How do you plan on doing that?” Bilbo asked, more curious than skeptical.

            Thorin got up from the table, pulling Bilbo up as well and then gathered him close. There was only a moment while Thorin gently cupped Bilbo face before he brought their lips together. As he had always hoped, Bilbo’s lips were soft and warm and with arms around each other, they fit together perfectly. The kiss was both tender and yet, filled with desire. Thorin tried to pour into it all the things he wanted to say but hadn’t been able to find the right words to express.

            Bilbo seemed to understand. As they pulled apart, Bilbo pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around Thorin.

            “I’ll do that daily,” Thorin said, resting his cheek on top of Bilbo’s curly haired head. “I’ll do often and as long as needed for you to realize that you are the one I want to be with.”

            Bilbo said nothing in reply but tightened his hold.

            They stood together, basking in each other’s warmth for long minutes until Bilbo released a huge yawn.   Thorin laughed but snuggled Bilbo closer.

            “Sorry,” Bilbo said, not letting Thorin go. “I haven’t really slept much the last several days and I think it’s all catching up with me.”

            Thorin nodded but said nothing. However, he released Bilbo, gave his love a smile, removed his shoes, his tie, his belt, then his shirt, laying them with his suit jacket and now standing in his slacks and undershirt. He took Bilbo’s hand and walked back to where he knew the bedroom was; they’d passed it on the way in.   He pulled the covers down and Bilbo needed no more encouragement as he stripped down to his pants and undershirt. They both climbed onto the bed and Thorin, gathered Bilbo to him; Bilbo’s back to his front. With a deep breath in for them both, they sighed and settled into rhythmic breathing.

            “Don’t you have something better to do?” Bilbo whispered, even as he drew Thorin’s arms closer around him.

            “I have things to do,” Thorin whispered back, breathing in Bilbo’s homey scent. “But not better.”

            “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Bilbo said, softly.

            “I want to,” Thorin said. “Never doubt that.”

            Thorin couldn’t see, but Bilbo smiled and snuggled closer to Thorin’s heat.

            “Sleep, love,” Thorin whispered.

            “Will you be here when I wake?” Bilbo asked.

            “Always,” Thorin answered. “If you want.”

            “I want.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “I’m bored,” Ori said, with a heaving sigh.

            “Too bad,” Dori stated, cleaning up the back counter. “You agreed to help out and Bilbo needs us to do this right now.”

            That wasn’t fair. “I know that! I’m just saying … I’m bored.”

            “Here’s a thought,” Dori said dryly, “why not try _working_ to beat the boredom.”

            Ori made a face behind his brother’s back, but Ori did felt a tiny bit guilty and started to straighten up the front; putting away the newly cleaned cups and saucers. Not exciting but it passed the time—

            “Excuse me.”

            Ori whirled around at the deep, husky voice and stilled. A burly, bald guy with a full beard and dark eyes was standing there and looking - _HOLY SHIT! What a body!_  “May I help you?” Ori said brightly, almost batting his eyes, going for the innocent look, even while images of all the things he’d love to do with the sexy bald guy playing around in his head.

            “I’m looking for my cousin,” the butch guy said with a smirk; he was clearly not fooled by Ori’s innocent look.

            “Really,” Ori said with a toothy grin, “how nice.” _How nice it’s your cousin and not your lover_ , but Ori kept that to himself; or tried to.

            “Stop flirting,” Dori said as he walked passed Ori, with an empty tray in his hands.

            “Shut up,” Ori said with a scowl to Dori's back, before turning back to the burly man with another bright smile.

            The guy, however, laughed.

            “What does your cousin look like?” Ori asked, leaning on the counter so that he had to look up at the guy; he wasn’t going to stop now that he had the sexy man in his crosshairs.

            “Tall, almost my height," the guy said, leaning down on one elbow on the counter, bringing him closer to Ori. “Dark hair, beard, dark blue business suit ... goes by the name of Thorin.”

            Ori straightened up with wide eyes. “You’re Thorin’s cousin?!”

            “In the flesh,” the guys said, then giving Ori a narrowed look. “I sure as shit hope _you aren’t_ the one he’s been coming here to see.”

            Ori said quickly, shaking his head emphatically. “Bilbo!  He’s been coming to see my friend ... Bilbo.”

            “Ah,” the guys said, standing up. “So … can I take it Thorin's still here somewhere?”

            “He’s upstairs with Bilbo now,” Ori said.

            “Leave them alone,” Dori growled out as he passed again, his try filled with used dishes.

            Ori shot Dori pointed look but the guy spoke up, “I didn’t want to disturb him if they're busy. Just wanted to see if everythings okay.”

            “I can ring them upstairs,” Ori offered, smiling. “If you want.”

            “No,” the guy said. “And as your co-worker says ... we should leave them be.”

            “He's my brother,” Ori said sourly, "and are you sure?  I could take a note … leave it for him … if you want ... just, give me your … name.”

            They guy laughed. Ori wasn’t being subtle but it clearly didn’t put the sexy guy off. “The name’s Dwalin.”

            “Ori.” Ori held out his hand and the guy enveloped it his paw like hand; Ori was so turned on.

            “Nice to meet you,” Dwalin said with nod, then boldly asking, “What time do you get off?”

            Ori decided not to make a quip about _‘getting off.’_    “I can get off—”

            “In an hour and half,” Dori said as he passed a third time. “ _When we close_.”

            Ori once again gave his brother's back a pointed glare.

            “In that case …” Dwalin said with sigh.

            Ori deflated a bit; if he lost a date with Dwalin because of his anally-retentive-goodie-two-shoes brother, he was going to beat Dori within an inch of his—

            “… can I have a cup of something while I wait,” Dwalin added. “For you to close that is?”

            Ori brightened at that. He smiled and remained calm although in his mind he was doing a dance that would have put Michael Flatley to shame. “You may have whatever you want. Tea? Coffee?”

            Dwalin smirked. “Coffee and … does that offer of _anything_ include your phone number?”

            Ori whipped a large insulated cup off the top of the stack and wrote his name and phone number on it. He filled it full with fresh hot coffee, and stuck a lid on it.  “If there's anything else you want,” Ori said, passing the cup to Dwalin, making sure he saw Ori’s number, “you just let me know.”

            Dwalin took the cup, glanced at the number and smiled. “I’ll think that over while I wait.”

            “You do that,” Ori said, with a wink.

            Dwalin laughed and took a seat at nearby table, picked up a discarded newspaper and began to read it; all the while looking up at Ori from time to time.

            Ori smiled while he continued to work and could honestly say, he wasn’t bored anymore.

            “Don’t stay out late,” Dori said as he walked passed again.

            Ori heaved out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

            “And don’t give me that look,” Dori said without turning around.

            Correction, Ori was getting bored real fast with Dori.

            Dwalin just laughed.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

 

 

            “All’s well that ends well,” Dis said brightly, taking a sip of tea. “That’s what I say.”

            “You would say that!” Bilbo added quickly.

            Thorin and Frerin exchanged a worried look but said nothing; they knew what was coming. Victoria, on the other hand smiled with anticipation. They were sitting in _Tea and Tomes_ , after hours, having a private ‘party’ so that Bilbo could meet the Thrainson sibling’s grandmother. Victoria had suggested the shop herself; feeling that Bilbo would feel more comfortable if the meeting was on his terms.

            Dis was caught off guard by Bilbo’s remark. “I don’t mean it smugly,” Dis insisted. “I just mean—”

            “That you’re glad your meddling didn’t cause real damage,” Bilbo stated then had a quick sip of his own tea to calm. “It could've ended much differently, you know.”

            “But it didn’t!” Dis pointed out.

            “You couldn’t have known that!” Bilbo countered.

            “We were hoping—”

            “Hope had little to do with it. You couldn’t get it straight and you had to run to your grandmother to fix it.”

            “I won’t put it like—”

            “And there was still no way of knowing how it would come out. What if Thorin refused to be persuaded by your grandmother and never returned?”

            “I can't imagine—”

            “What if I was too hurt and refused to speak to Thorin again?”

            “I wouldn't think—”

            “Or God forbid I’d gotten really sick and ended up in hospital? Or worse?”

            Dis had no more come back to that.

            “The truth of the matter is, you and your brother had no clue what you were doing and with no foreknowledge of the outcome, when you ran out of schemes you panicked, dumped the whole mess in your grandmother’s lap, and then sat back hoping against all hope, that Thorin would forgive you, our relationship would be mended and you would be off the hook!”

            Bilbo closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and took a sip of tea to compose himself. The other four in the room sat in silence while Bilbo’s words settled; Dis looked stunned, Thorin and Frerin looked anywhere but at Dis or Bilbo, while Victoria nibbled a small biscuit; wearing a rather satisfied smile on her face.

            Finally, Dis said quietly, “Bilbo … I am sorry—”

            But Bilbo stopped her. “I know you are,” he replied softly. “But you hurt Thorin … and the resulting fall out—”

            “Hurt you,” Thorin added hoarsely.

            “Hurt _us_ ,” Bilbo correctly gently.

            “We never set out to hurt either of you,” Frerin said earnestly. “Believe us, we didn’t.”

            “I know that,” Thorin said. “We both do.”

            “I think the lesson here,” Victoria said, taking a sip of tea before continuing. “Is for you two to remember that Thorin’s private life is just that … private … and if you want to know something, then you ask. This whole debacle would have been avoided had Dis simply spoke with Thorin first.”

            “He wouldn't have said a word!” Dis argued.

            “But that’s his right!” Bilbo said defensively.

            “I would've said something evidentially,” Thorin stated.

            “Oh, sure,” Dis pulled a face. “In a few years time.”

            “That doesn’t matter,” Bilbo said, still in defense mode. “Thorin should be the one to decide when to share his private life … if ever!”

            The last words didn’t seem to sit well with Dis, but she has the smarts to remain silent.

            “I will tell you now,” Bilbo said with an air of finality. “From here on out, if you two upset Thorin like you have—”

            “Dis started it!” Frerin spat out.

            “—you will have to deal with me.” Bilbo gave the two younger Durin siblings a pointed look.

            “Take the warning,” Thorin said with a smirk. “You’d be wise not get on Bilbo’s bad side.”

            “Bilbo’s just expressing his feelings for you,” Dis said dismissively. “He doesn’t have a bad side.”

            Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “You want to test that theory?”

            Victoria clapped her hands and drew everyone’s attention. “While I will agree that Bilbo is expressing his feelings for Thorin—” Victoria nodded to Bilbo “—Thorin is also correct—” she looked at her youngest grandchildren “—you two should heed the warning. Believe me when I say, I will not come to your defense nor will you receive any sympathy from me if you incur Bilbo’s wrath.”

            Dis and Frerin both gaped at their grandmother.

            “Why am I a bad guy here?” Frerin demanded.

            “You were involved,” Victoria said.

            “But only after Dis messed up!” Frerin said.

            “Thanks for that!” Dis said with a petulant pout.

            “You made it worse than it was by going behind Thorin’s back to see Bilbo,” Victoria pointed out.

            Frerin gawked and Dis sulked but they remained silent.  However, Thorin heaved a tired sigh.

            “It’s over,” Thorin said. “I declare this … _crisis_ , over with.”

            Bilbo nodded. “Of course. I agree.”

            Thorin turned to his siblings. “I love you both … I know you love me … and Bilbo and I both know that neither of you meant to hurt us.”

            “We didn’t,” Frerin said honestly.

            “I never meant for any of it to happen,” Dis stated sincerely.

            “And I forgive you,” Thorin said. “From now on, it’s a new day, and it starts now.”

            Dis reached out and took Thorin’s hand. “I’m sorry, Thorin. Truly.”

            “Let it go, sweetie,” Thorin said, squeezing Dis’ hand in return. “It’s over now. I don’t want this hanging over us anymore.”

            “I don’t either,” Bilbo said. “I want us to be friendly.”

            “I’d like more than that,” Dis said.

            “Me too,” Frerin said.

            “Then, we’ll work on it,” Bilbo stated with a smile. “And since we are starting anew, who would like more tea?” Bilbo stood and reached for the near-empty pot. “Another round of Bergamot or would you like to try the green Jasmine?”

            “Bergamot is fine with me,” Dis said.

            “I agree,” Victoria added.

            “I’m good with whatever,” Frerin stated.

            “I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,” Thorin said with a hopeful smile. “If you have it made, that is.”

            “I’d make for you if I didn’t,” Bilbo said. “But I already figured you’d want it at some point, so I have a pot ready.” Bilbo took the teapot, swiftly planted a kiss on Thorin's cheek and turned to get more tea and Thorn's coffee.

            “Spoiled,” Frerin snarked with a smirk.

            “Jealous?” Thorin said, not denying the comment.

            “Of course he is,” Dis said. “The only thing his girl-friends ever made him was broke.”

            Thorin and Dis laughed at that; Victoria did her best to hide a smirk.

            “That isn’t true,” Frerin said, accepting the joke. “They also made me angry from time to time.”

            Everyone laughed at that.

            “What’s so funny?” Bilbo asked as he came back with the pot and Thorin’s coffee.

            “Just true observations of Frerin’s love life,” Thorin said, taking the hot coffee from Bilbo.

            “I’m sorry I missed that,” Bilbo said but gave Frerin a wink in gest as he filled the empty cups and sat down.

            “Well, enough about Frerin,” Victoria declared. “I have more important things to discuss.” She turned a sharp look on her eldest grandson but pointed a finger at Bilbo. “Thorin … I hope you’re planning on marrying this young man.”

            Bilbo cheeks and ears turned scarlet, while Dis choked on her tea and Frerin nearly spit his out. Thorin however, calmly took a drink of his coffee, not even batting an eye.

            “Why do you ask, Grannie?” Thorin said, enjoying the reactions around him.

            “Well,” Victoria said, with a small shrug. “Baring the fact that he is intelligent and kind, and clearly loves you … I think it high time I had a grandson-in-law that not only knows how to correctly brew tea, but has the manners and breeding to serve it in an appropriate vessel.” Victoria held up her teacup, a delicate thing in shades of pink and ivory. “I do love this china.”

            “Thank you,” Bilbo said, now recovered. “It was my grandmother’s.”

            Victoria nodded. “Not only appropriate but a family heirloom.” Victoria looked at Thorin pointedly. “Marry him when he agrees.”

            Bilbo laughed and turned a smile onto Thorin; Thorin wasn’t laughing.

            “I plan to,” Thorin said softly, gracing Bilbo with a tender expression.

            Bilbo turned scarlet again and ducked his head, but he could not hide the smile that spread across his face.

            They all talked and laughed for another three-quarters of an hour before Victoria announced it was time for her to go.  In reality, Victoria was having a wonderful time, but she wanted to give Thorin and Bilbo time to themselves; she was an old woman and stating that she was tired seemed a believable excuse. Frankly, she planned on going home and watching an episode of  _Sherlock_ but no one needed to know that.  Dis and Frerin took Victoria's hint and stated their decision to leave as well. They all offered to help clean up but Bilbo was aghast at the suggestion and Thorin stated firmly that he had no intention of leaving, so the others had no need to worry.

            As Dis and Frerin bid her good-night outside and Victoria was stepping into her car, she chanced a look back into the shop and smiled as Thorin, following behind a chattering Bilbo and laughing, suddenly wrapped his arms around Bilbo and drew the shorter man to him. Bilbo giggled but melted into the embrace.

            In a flash, for just a split second, in Victoria’s mind another image surfaced; she was not seeing her grandson and his love, but that of a small boy, hugging his beloved teddy-bear, whispering secret things and utterly basking in the unconditional love he shared with him.

 

 

_FIN_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING ... I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [No Place Like Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266058) by [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle)




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